


nothing in this world i wouldn't do

by starryeyedchar



Series: hey, brother AU (an endless road to rediscover) [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Harley Keener, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedchar/pseuds/starryeyedchar
Summary: Harley Keener doesn't need anybody's pity. He's a tough kid, and a smart one, and he's going to Midtown because it's an excellent and exclusive academic opportunity. So, when he comes to live with Tony Stark so that he can go to the school and Tony's overly energetic intern acts all nice to him, Harley figures that his boss just put him up to it. He can take care of himself just fine. He doesn't want to admit that he wants friendship, something real, something he didn't really have in Rose Hill.Peter Parker just wants to be Harley's friend. He's heard all about the kid Mr. Stark met in Tennessee, and he really hopes that they'll get along, because he thinks they have a lot in common. But Harley's blunt and edging on hostile, and Peter can't understand why. And he can't explain to Harley that he wasn't just instructed to be his friend without explaining that he's not actually Mr. Stark's intern. He's Spider-Man. But Harley can't find out about that, can he?This is the story of how Harley and Peter become friends... or rather, brothers. It's just a bit of a bumpy road, to start.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Harley Keener & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: hey, brother AU (an endless road to rediscover) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630126
Comments: 161
Kudos: 401





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of 2020 (yes, I know it's February, don't worry about it), and my 50th work on ao3 (!!!) and I wanted it to be something new to celebrate! So, I'm starting a new AU (rest assured my FMA one is still very much ongoing)! I've wanted to write for the MCU for a while, because I absolutely adore all the movies— especially the Spider-Man ones. But Harley and Peter never got to speak to each other in Endgame, and I'm mad about it, so... this series was created. I'm making a world in which Peter and Harley are sort-of brothers; this work is going to be very plot-heavy whereas everything else will just be in the same world. I have a lot of ideas, but I wanted to set the scene first. So here we go.
> 
> Don't be fooled, though; some serious shit is going to go down, because it's still me. Don't mistake this for just a getting to know each other fic (look at the tags if you want, but I won't add more specific ones until later). This is MCU, and I'm the one writing. Everything is bound to go off the rails.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy, and are as excited about this AU as I am!!

Harley stared at the email he’d just opened, still not comprehending the giant ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’ written in lettering so big it nearly took up his entire screen. A burst of virtual confetti had rained down the moment he clicked on it, but despite that and the fact that he’d re-read the email multiple times, he still couldn’t believe it. Accepted to the Midtown School of Science and Technology. _Him_.

It just didn’t make any sense. An elite school like this should reject someone like him, some nobody from nowhere, just on principle, let alone from a financial perspective. And even if Tony had put in a good word, even if he’d assured Harley that his grades were enough— though they came from Rose Hill —Harley still hadn’t believed him. Because he had the absolute _worst_ luck. Harley was certain that running into Tony Stark when he was twelve was the luckiest break he'd ever get, even with all the chaos that had brought down upon his world. But he knew from even before then that he’d never go to a university unless he got a full ride, let alone admission to a fancy, private school in _New York_ of all places. One that would certainly boost applications to any such higher education facilities.

And yet, there it was, staring him right in the face. ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’

He dialed Tony’s number, trying not to further psych himself out at the fact that he could just… _call_ Tony fucking Stark. Harley didn’t think he’d ever be over that. He still remembered Tony giving him his number when he’d left Tennessee all those years ago.

 _“Thanks for all your help, kid,”_ Tony had said. _“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call. And I mean anything.”_

Harley… had wanted to. So, _so_ badly. But he knew that Tony just gave him the number as a formality. It probably went directly to his secretary, or some AI he’d set up to inform the press and persistent fans that he was always busy. He knew that Tony would never actually want to talk to him again. It was fine. Harley was used to people leaving.

And then, not even six months after everything had calmed down, the landline had rung.

_“What the hell, kid? I give you my number, and you don’t even bother to call? Do you realize how few people have my personal cell phone number?”_

Harley had blinked, utterly confused. _“I… personal cell phone?”_

 _“Yes! And_ _since_ _I foolishly didn’t get_ your _cell phone_ _number,_ _because_ _I was_ _under the false impression that you actually wished to speak to me again, I was_ _forced t_ _o find it.”_ Tony had paused. _“Which wasn’t hard, you know, for me, but Rose Hill is an obnoxiously small town. Still, I only managed to get your landline.”_

_“I don’t have a cell phone.”_

_“Well, we’ll fix that. You need one. For emergencies.”_ A pause. _“Did I… did I do something wrong? Something to upset you? I’m sorry I had to leave, there was some serious stuff I had to take care of, but I never wanted you to think that I didn’t care, or_ —”

 _“No, no, I just...”_ Harley hadn’t known what to say. _“I didn’t want to bother you?”_

Tony had been silent again, an oddity in itself. Then, even more out of character, _“You’re never a bother, kid. Try to remember that, and give me a call before several months go by, huh? Maybe I’ll be able to come back down to visit.”_

As things stood now, they usually talked on the phone once a month, and often more. Especially lately, what with Tony’s plan to get Harley enrolled in a good school like Midtown in order to improve his college applications, though those were still two years away. Rose Hill education left much to be desired.

Tony _had_ even visited once or twice in the years that had passed, so Harley didn’t know why he still doubted he would get a response whenever he contacted him.

Tony picked up on the second ring.

“Well?” he asked immediately, and Harley realized that he must’ve known the date that he'd hear back. “You got the good news for me?”

Harley wrinkled his nose, but he was smiling. “You don’t know it’s good news.”

“Yes, I do,” Tony said. “If it were bad news, you would’ve waited for me to call you. Because you’ve gotten it into your head that if you don’t get into Midtown, I’ll be disappointed.”

“I don’t care about your approval, old man,” Harley fired back. “I just don’t want you to show up at Midtown in your suit and cause a mass panic.”

He could practically _hear_ Tony’s eye roll. “Whatever your reasoning, just spit it _out,_ Keener. My poor heart can’t take it. You got accepted?”

Harley couldn’t resist dragging it out more, after that. “Your heart can take a whole lot, from what I’ve heard. I highly doubt that this—”

“ _Harley_.”

He took a deep breath. Let it out. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, I… I got in. I can go to Midtown.”

And Tony _whooped._ “Yes! All right, kid! What did I tell you? I knew those grades were too good for your small school is nowheresville! If you get involved in some of the extracurriculars Midtown offers, too, you’ll be a shoe-in for MIT.”

Harley frowned, though he couldn’t help the fondness he felt. “I’m sixteen. Who said anything about MIT?”

“No one,” Tony said quickly. “Just… thinking ahead. I know you’re just a sophomore, but this means you’ll be spending the majority of your high school career at Midtown. That’ll look really good on _any_ application, and the fact that it’s far away from home will also give you practice being more independent and living in a city setting. It’s the best option for your future.”

Harley knew all that already. The words were the same ones that’d convinced Harley to go along with this in the first place, among other things. Living in New York. Living with _Tony_. Rose Hill just had a population of a few thousand people, and Harley had been itching for adventure his whole life. It had seemed impossible, even when he’d submitted his application. But now that it was actually going to _happen…_

“Are you sure about this?” Harley asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could think about them.

Tony snorted. “Of course I’m sure. It was my idea. Why, do you not want to anymore? Because I’ve said from the start, if you don’t want to switch schools—”

“Oh, believe me, I would _love_ to switch schools,” Harley interrupted. The only close friend he really had in Rose Hill was his sister, if that even counted. The local high school was incredibly small, and none of the kids there really… liked him. At all. In any way, shape, or form. “It’s just… I mean, I got a _little_ scholarship money, and some financial aid because of my mom, but… my grades are good, but not good enough to warrant a full ride. It’s still an expensive school. And I _know y_ ou said you have no problem covering the rest, but you shouldn’t have to—”

“Harley.” It was Tony’s turn to cut him off, now. “I _offered._ ”

“I know, I know, but… but I’d be _living_ with you! I don’t want to be any trouble, and I figured I should make sure that you’re okay with it again, because if you or Miss Potts changed her mind, then you shouldn’t feel like you still have to—”

“Mrs. Potts soon, actually.”

Harley's jumble of thoughts disappeared completely, and he _beamed_. “You asked her? God, _finally_.” Then, just because he had to, “She really said yes?”

“Oh, shut it, Keener,” Tony said, before getting back to the point. “But yes. She’s repeatedly told me she’s completely okay with you staying with us. Thrilled, even. It’s not like we don’t have the room to spare, and once again, I _offered_. I owe you more than one favor, kid, this is the least I can do. As long as your mom and sister are okay with it, then we’re all square.”

“They’re okay with it,” Harley assured him. “Mom agrees, says it’ll be good if I want to go to college— which she’s super excited about you encouraging me to do, by the way —and Cassidy says she’ll miss me, but I’ll be home for summers and holidays. And they know how easy it’ll be to visit, what with you having a million private jets and all.”

“I don’t have a _million_ private jets, Harley, be sensible,” Tony said, with another laugh. “But seriously, then, quit worrying about me. I’ve _been_ on board with this idea, it was _my_ idea. And when am I ever wrong?”

“ _Actually_ —”

“Don’t answer that.” Tony sighed. Harley pictured him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Harley, the only thing that _really_ matters is whether you still want to do this. So? Do you still want to transfer to Midtown and come live with me?”

“Yes,” Harley breathed. He didn’t think about it. He knew, deep down, that he couldn’t have turned down this offer once it was presented to him. This chance felt like what Harley had been waiting for his whole _life_. And it was still scary, but the alternative was staying in Rose Hill and getting shoved around by the other douchebags in attendance. When Tony Stark asks you if you want to live with him, there’s never really a choice to begin with.

“Good,” Tony said, voice impossibly soft, and okay, Harley had to reel this conversation back in right now, because it was getting into emotional territory.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, though,” he said. “I mean seriously, do you have any idea how to deal with teenagers? I’m just getting into my rebellious stage.”

“You’ve been a little shit since I met you, so that’s nothing I can’t handle,” Tony pointed out. “But I’ve actually had some practice recently dealing with angsty teens. That’s… actually part of the reason I thought Midtown was a great place for you. Recently I’ve taken on an… um, an intern. He goes there too, actually. Also a sophomore.”

Harley couldn’t believe his ears. “A high school intern? _You_?” he asked. Why wouldn’t Tony have brought this up when he suggested Midtown in the first place? “You’ve never mentioned anything about him before. What does he even do? Get you coffee?”

Tony seemed to hesitate on the other end. “No, he’s a pretty bright kid. He’d have to be to go there. So, he helps me out with stuff in the lab. He’s pretty good with tech, and it’s nice to have an extra pair of hands. You two are a lot alike, actually. I can’t wait to introduce you, I think you’ll really get along.”

Harley sincerely doubted that, but he wasn’t about to say so to Tony, not when the man sounded so hopeful. Seriously, he knew he didn’t have much in the way of friends, but he didn’t want Tony to set him up with one. If Harley wanted friends, he’d make them on his own. Not… whatever _this_ was.

And it was hard to ignore the stab of jealousy he felt. Tony sounded really close with whoever this was, and Harley had sort of thought that the only kid in Tony Stark’s life was… well, him.

Still, he played along, not wanting to hurt Tony’s feelings. And it was unfair of him to think that way, he knew. “Yeah, I guess,” he mused. “What’s his name?”

“Peter Parker.”

Harley couldn’t help it, he scoffed. “Seriously? How do you know so many people with alliteration in their names. Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan. Bruce Banner. Buck—uh, never mind.”

“Nice save,” Tony deadpanned.

Harley winced. “Sorry? I was just listing.”

Tony sighed. “You’re lucky I like you, kid. Tell you what, though, I should probably go. You’ve still gotta tell your mom about this acceptance, right?”

“Uh, yeah. She’s still at work, calling you was the first thing I did.” Jeez. Harley hoped that didn’t make him sound like an idiot.

Tony’s voice was fond again when he replied, though. “Well, let her and your sister know, talk it over as a family tonight, then give me a call back tomorrow. The semester won’t be over for another month or so, but we should start planning when you’re moving in so you can be completely situated before your first day.”

It still didn’t feel real to Harley. _Moving in_ , with Tony, with his hero. It was a dream come true. He did his best to rein in his emotions yet again. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine with me. I’ll… I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” He hadn’t meant for it to be a question.

“Tomorrow,” Tony agreed, and then the call cut off.

Harley returned to staring at the screen, the ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. This was crazy. _Harley_ was crazy. But he’d made up his mind. He was going to New York. “Shit.”

“You’re not supposed to curse,” a voice spoke up from just behind him. “Mom would be mad.”

Harley yelped, and promptly fell out of his chair. He glared up at his little sister from where he landed on the floor. “Cass, _jeez_ , how long have you been home?! You can’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I just did,” she said, then glanced over at the computer screen, her eyes widening. “Wait, hang on, is that from—?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Harley said again, standing up quickly and slamming the laptop closed. “Fuck, I mean, crap, I— you weren’t supposed to see that, I wanted to surprise you and mom with the news tonight.”

Cassidyjust stared at him, and a slow grin began to spread over her face.

“Stop, what the— why are you smiling at me like that, it’s—”

“Harls!” Cassidy shrieked, before tackling him in a hug. Harley lost his balance again, resigning to his fate on the floor with a small _oof_. “You got in! I knew you would, but still, isn’t this _great_? You did it! Mom’s going to be so thrilled, oh my gosh, I’m so happy!”

“Yeah?” Harley looked down at his sister, a smile tugging at the corners of his own lips despite himself. “I’m… I’m really happy, too.”

* * *

Peter typically worked in the lab with Mr. Stark on Wednesdays, right after school. He had decathlon practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so most weeks he had Wednesday afternoon free. He usually went on patrol as Spider-Man at night, with the exception of weekends, but when this had all started out, he and Tony agreed that they should have a set time where Peter came to the compound so they could keep up appearances of the ‘internship.’ May would undoubtedly have been suspicious if they hadn’t taken such precautions, let alone everyone else Peter mentioned the internship to, whether they believed him or not.

And then, once May had found out… they hadn’t stopped. It had become a tradition, at this point, and one Peter adored. For all intents and purposes, it was almost like he _did_ have a real internship, since he was able to work alongside Tony Stark a few hours a week in addition to moonlighting as a superhero. Peter had been spending increasingly more weekends at the compound, too, when May had to take late shifts. As long as Mr. Stark didn’t mind, neither did he. And Mr. Stark never forgot about lab day.

So Peter was surprised to find that Mr. Stark wasn’t alone in his workshop when Peter arrived. He couldn’t see the other person’s face, as both they and Mr. Stark had their back to the entrance and didn’t turn to look when Peter came in, but he didn’t think much of it. He dumped his backpack unceremoniously on the ground beside the door, leaving his suit inside—though he’d been hoping to tinker some more with his web-shooters, he wouldn’t be able to explain that easily to Mr. Stark’s guest —and headed over to the work table the two stood at.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter began excitedly, causing both Tony and his guest to jump. He glanced down at the table, spotting the insignia of Iron Patriot on the holographic screen in front of Tony. “Ooh, are we working on something for Colonel Rhodes?”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathed, pressing a hand to his heart. “I never should’ve given you clearance with FRIDAY. You just use it to sneak up on me.”

“Only because you make it so easy,” Peter replied, grinning. Though if Tony took precautions, Peter could always just drop down from the ceiling and surprise him that way. “Who’s…?”

Peter trailed off as he turned his attention for the first time toward the other person in the workshop, and his eyes widened. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and despite the fact that he had Peter considerably beat in terms of height, he looked about the same age. There was only one person this could be, then.

 _Of course._ Peter could kick himself. Harley Keener’s first day at Midtown was next week. Mr. Stark hadn’t shut up about it since he’d learned of the other teen’s acceptance.

“You must be Harley!” Peter said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. He held out a hand for him to shake. “It’s so nice to finally have a face to go with the name! Mr. Stark has told me all about you.”

Harley made a face at that, though his expression was near impossible to read. “And you’re… Peter? The intern, right?” He didn’t sound quite sure of that, but he shook his hand regardless. Peter tried his best not to be disappointed. Clearly Tony hadn’t mentioned Peter to Harley as often as he’d done the reverse. “You go to Midtown?”

“Yep! You start Monday, right?”

Harley nodded wordlessly, and Peter fought to keep the smile on his face, though he was at a loss for how to continue a conversation with someone who clearly didn’t want to be having one.

Mr. Stark had talked about Harley so _much_ , even before it was decided that he’d be coming to Midtown, and while Peter hadn’t exactly expected that Harley would be as psyched to meet _him…_ he’d really hoped that they could at least be friends. But he had no idea what Harley was thinking, apart from the fact that he seemed thrown off by Peter’s energy. Maybe he should dial it down a notch?

“I can show you around before class, if you want, and introduce you to my friends,” Peter suggested, determined to get a positive reaction. “You can sit with us at—”

“Actually,” Harley interrupted, his sharp voice making Peter jump. “I’m supposed to meet the principal that morning to get my schedule, so you can just go right to class. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter hoped he didn’t sound disappointed. He _wasn’t_ disappointed. Still hopeful that they could make the best out of today, he turned back toward the work table in front of them, which Tony had been absentmindedly tinkering at while they spoke. “Uh, what’re we working on today, Mr. Stark?”

“Well, Rhodey’s been complaining that the heavier nature of his suit doesn’t allow him to fly quite as fast. Even though he _should_ know that’s just basic aerodynamics, he asked if we could find a way to give his thrusters a little boost, so I figured we could tinker around with those, maybe add some...”

As Mr. Stark launched into his explanation and Peter pored over the holographic screens, looking at the detailed projection of one of Iron Patriot’s thrusters, he couldn’t help but feel Harley’s gaze on him. He hung back, eyes visibly darting between Peter and Mr. Stark with no small amount of confusion. Eventually, however, as they began working, Harley joined in. He’d known Harley was pretty smart— he _had_ been accepted to Midtown, after all —but Peter was still impressed with his input. Harley could keep up with him and Mr. Stark despite seeing this tech for what was probably the first time, and that alone clued Peter in on why Mr. Stark thought this kid was so special.

Some time passed like this before Pepper stuck her head into the lab. She shot a fond smile in both Peter and Harley’s direction. “Hello, boys,” she said, voice soft and kind as ever. “Mind if I borrow Tony for a few minutes? I have some documents he needs to look over. Pretty boring business stuff.”

“Of course not! We’ll just keep on trying to figure this out,” Peter said, rotating the holo-image before him and once again wishing he could tinker with his web-shooters. He figured maybe he could compensate for his more coordinated right-hand there with some sort of mechanism on the left? He didn’t know, but it didn’t look like he’d get a chance to be in the lab with just Mr. Stark unless he asked Harley outright to leave, which he wasn’t about to do.

Mr. Stark ducked out of the lab, the door closing behind him loudly. Everything was quiet for a moment, then, to Peter’s surprise, Harley broke the silence.

“I’m confused,” he started, glancing up from the screens in front of them to eye Peter’s face. “How long have you been working for Tony? No offense meant, but taking on an intern doesn’t really seem like something he’d do.”

 _Fuck._ Peter couldn’t argue with that, and for someone with a secret identity, he was _extraordinarily_ bad at lying. “I, uh, I guess it’s not. It was unusual for me, too. Freshman year I applied to a bunch of grants, and stuff—Midtown is pretty expensive —and I guess Mr. Stark saw something in me? He thought I had potential, and I guess he thought he could use the help."

“I guess that’s why he hasn’t talked about you much, since you only met last year,” Harley mused, and wow, okay, Peter felt as if he’d just been slapped even though there was clearly no ill intent behind the words. “Still, I find it hard to believe that he just needed someone to help out in the lab. I mean, how many robots has he invented for that exact purpose?”

Peter frowned. “I think it also probably had a lot to do with the press, since taking on a high school kid as an intern is pretty good publicity for the company. Everyone loves a good charity case, you know?” The joke fell flat. Harley just narrowed his eyes. “And, um, it’s really a win-win for me. This is not only an absolutely surreal experience, but it’ll also be great on college applications.” At least that part was true.

“If a big part of why he hired you was the good press it would bring, then why don’t I ever see anything about you on the news?” Harley asked. “I’m sure a fourteen-year-old kid interning at Stark Industries would attract a lot of attention.” There was something bitter in Harley’s voice that Peter couldn’t quite place.

 _Shit_ , though, that was a good point. “Mr. Stark tries to keep me out of the news as much as possible,” Peter explained quickly. “I think he figured out that he didn’t want people following me around with cameras all the time and asking me questions about his personal life. The whole thing wound up technically being a little hush-hush, I guess you could say.”

Harley stared at him for a second longer, then turned back to the work table. “You seem pretty close to Tony for an intern,” he muttered, under his breath.

Peter wondered if he’d heard right. “I mean, I… I guess so? I’m here a lot.”

Harley mumbled something else before looking back up to meet Peter’s gaze. “You’ll be here every Wednesday after school, then?”

“Yeah, and random times on most weekends. It really depends, but on Wednesdays I’m always here.” Peter hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. “So, we’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other. Mr. Stark's told me a lot about you; I think it’s really cool that you’ve known him since you were a little kid! I know you said you have to meet the principal, but I think MJ and Ned would really like you, so maybe after that we could—”

“Look,” Harley cut him off, voice sharp again. “Just because you work for Tony and we’ll see each other often because of that doesn’t mean we have to be friends, all right? I’m perfectly fine with just being left alone.”

 _Oh._ “R-Right.” Peter bit his lip. He should’ve been more considerate, and realized that Harley felt that way instead of continuing to pester him. “Sorry, I… yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

Harley’s brows had drawn together in confusion again. “What are you—?”

Luckily, their conversation was cut short by Mr. Stark reentering the lab, smiling at the both of them. He clapped his hands together as he made his way back over. “Sorry about that! Who’s ready to get back to work?” He reached over and ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately. Harley seemed surprised by this, but he looked even more bewildered when Peter spoke next.

“Um, actually, I… I have a lot of schoolwork to do, and I promised I’d help May with dinner since she has a late shift, so I should… get going,” Peter said, trying to keep his voice normal. “Is it okay if I head out now, Mr. Stark?”

Tony frowned at him—Peter never left lab day early —but nodded anyway. “Sure, kid,” he said. Then, “Get home safe.”

“I will. I’ll see you later, Mr. Stark! Bye, Harley,” he added that last part as an afterthought, not wanting to be rude. Though the other teen had made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with Peter.

Which… that was _fine_ , really. Harley didn’t have to be friends with him, it just… it kind of stunk, that someone his age who also knew Tony Stark well— better even —was going to be attending school with him, and Peter had made Harley dislike him in just an hour. That’s why he’d decided to leave; the compound was Harley’s home now, too, and Peter didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

Peter would just have to be careful to give Harley his space at school. He really didn’t need more people at Midtown who disliked him.

He sighed, refusing again to be disappointed or upset, even if… he _could_ really use another friend. He’d had such high hopes once he’d learned that Harley was going to Midtown, but it seemed as if Harley Keener was just like everyone else.

So Peter headed home, mourning the loss of a friendship that had never really had the chance to get off the ground.

* * *

Harley’s first day of school at Midtown went pretty well, all things considered, right up until it didn’t. He had to admit that he was awed by Midtown High’s appearance alone— everything was sleek, and _new,_ and fancy or expensive looking. Harley didn’t know what he’d expected from an elite school, but he almost felt as if he didn’t quite look the part enough to be there.

The principal had spoken with him, shook his hand and all that, and of course sprinkled in surprise that Harley’s emergency contact and acting guardian was none other than _the_ Tony Stark. Harley suspected that as the reason he was getting so much special treatment on his first day, and once again felt relieved that he’d insisted Tony not write a recommendation letter. At least he knew he’d gotten into the school on his own.

The principal had shown Harley around a bit, but mostly just stressed how ‘in order’ all his affairs were, and gave Harley a copy of his schedule before personally escorting him— despite Harley’s _numerous_ protests —to his first class. English. Which went well, despite Harley missing the first half of the year. Hopefully, since he was starting at the beginning of the second semester, he wouldn’t have too many things to catch up on. Pretty much all he’d had to do in that first class was listen to his teacher prattle on and then accept his copy of _Hamlet_ at the end of the period.

Harley was happy to find that the principal wouldn’t be taking him to his second class as well, at least until that resulted in him showing up late after not knowing where the room was. Biology. _Perfect. Late to my first science class at my new science-y school._ He actually had to repress a groan when he saw none other than Peter Parker sat in the back with some other student.

Peter Parker. Harley hadn’t known what to expect of Tony’s mysterious intern, but he certainly hadn’t thought he’d be so… Harley didn’t even know the right word for it. Energetic? He didn’t know how Tony of all people, who had such little tolerance for people in general, put up with him. Peter had been practically bouncing off the walls when Harley met him, and kept going off on long, rambling tangents about whatever work they were trying to accomplish. It was a wonder he got anything done, and Harley was once again having a hard time believing that Tony had hired him.

And Harley wasn’t _stupid_. He knew he wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, and he hadn’t expected Peter to want to take the time to get to know him when the guy probably already had countless other friends at this school, if his bubbly personality were anything to go by. As Harley sat down in the back of the room, waiting for class to just start already, he kept catching snippets of conversation from Peter and his friend—Ned, if Harley had heard his name right. Peter probably didn’t need _Harley Keener_ throwing a wrench in his social life, but he’d been nice to Harley anyway because his _boss_ had told him to do so.

Harley appreciated what Tony was trying to do by introducing them, but he didn’t want friends who only talked to him because they had to, or because they felt sorry for him.

Harley couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Peter seemed to have _everything_ Harley had ever wanted _._ Peter had friends at this school, something Harley hadn’t ever really managed in all the years he’d been at Rose Hill. Not only that, but he worked for Tony, and got to see him every _week._ Harley could count the number of times he’d seen Tony after he left Rose Hill that first time on his fingers. He got to live with him now, sure, but… after just knowing Peter since last year, apparently, Tony already adored him. Anyone with eyes could see it. And as they’d worked together in the lab, their quick back and forth that spoke of knowing each other so _well…_ Harley couldn’t help but feel left out. Like he had been intruding on something private, something important, for just the two of them.

So, he’d brushed Peter off. And sure, he’d felt bad about it later, but really he was just saving the both of them the trouble. Peter of having to pretend to be friends with someone just because Tony had put him up to it, and Harley of being disappointed in someone that he never should’ve allowed himself to get close to in the first place, because he _knew_ it could only end badly. Really, Peter should be thanking Harley for doing him the favor.

Which was why it made no damn sense that Peter was so damn _persistent._

The bell signaling the end of class rung, and Harley caught Peter muttering something to his friend before making a beeline for Harley’s desk. He stood up and attempted to leave quickly to avoid him, but Peter was surprisingly quick and caught up to him at the door. Now determined to ignore him, Harley kept walking, staring straight ahead.

Peter was not deterred. “Where’s your third period?”

“None of your business,” Harley said. He knew he was being needlessly rude, he just didn’t care. He wanted to be left alone. “Stop following me.”

“I’m not _following_ you, this is the way to my next class!” At that, Harley made an abrupt turn down a different hallway, and Peter sighed. “Okay, now I’m following you. But come on, let me show you where your next class is! I don’t want you to be late again.”

God, why did he even _care_? Harley walked faster. “I can find it just fine on my own. I don’t need your help.”

Peter frowned, keeping up with him. “If you’re going to be stubborn, that’s fine. But two can play at that game. I’m not going to leave you alone until I know you’re in class.”

Harley stopped walking and turned to look at him, incredulous. “Then _you’ll_ be late.”

Peter waved a hand dismissively, as if this didn’t matter in the slightest. “I’m late half the time anyways, but it’s your first day. It’s important you make good first impressions on your teachers.”

“If you’re already late so much, isn’t it kind of important that you get to class on time, too?”

“Come _on_ , just let me help you,” Peter insisted, apparently ignoring Harley’s perfectly valid point. “The sooner you do, the sooner we can _both_ be in class.”

This led to Harley glaring at Peter, and Peter just stared back, unfazed. Harley groaned. “I’m in room 219. Pre-Calc, I think?”

A small smile found its way onto Peter’s face. “Harley, that’s on the second floor. Because, you know, of the two in front of it? We’re _ages_ away.”

Harley felt his face growing red. The high school in Rose Hill had been so small it only had one floor. He hadn’t even thought of looking for a staircase, and suddenly he felt like a complete idiot. “If you’re just going to make fun of—”

Peter’s smile fell as soon as it had appeared. “No, no, no,” he said quickly. “I’m not making fun. I promised I’d get you to class, and I will. We’re going to have to hurry, though.” And without any further warning, he grabbed Harley’s hand and started tugging him towards the nearest staircase.

Harley immediately tried to snatch his hand out of the other’s grip, but Peter’s hold was actually pretty strong. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“Getting you to class on time!” Peter called over his shoulder, still smiling, though he’d have to be _blind_ not to notice all the weird looks they were getting. Harley certainly noticed them, though, and he was absolutely mortified. All he’d wanted to do for his first day was go blissfully unnoticed, to stay in the background and out of everyone’s way. But now everyone kept turning to stare at them as Peter practically dragged him along.

 _Look at the new kid,_ Harley could almost hear them thinking. _He has to be led around by the hand like a child. What a freak._

True to Peter’s word, though— even if Harley hated to admit it —he did get to his math class on time. Just as he sat down, the bell for the start of the period ran, and he caught sight of Peter running back down the hall. _He’d_ definitely be late.

Harley spent the entirety of Pre-Calc trying and failing to convince himself that he didn’t feel bad. Was it really going to be that hard to get Peter to leave him alone?

They wound up having fourth period together, too— Harley was beginning to suspect that Tony had pulled a few string to make this happen. Harley had found that one alone, since it was close to his previous class, and so he’d sat far away from Peter in the hopes that he’d get the message. No such luck. Harley really shouldn’t have been surprised.

On the way out of class, Peter once again approached Harley, though this time his friend Ned followed him, lagging just a bit behind.

“Come sit with Ned and I at lunch,” Peter said, without any other sort of introduction. It wasn’t a question. Harley bristled.

“What makes you think I’d want to sit with you?” he asked. “Because I don’t.”

Ned made a face and opened his mouth as if to protest, but Peter shot him a look before continuing himself. “You don’t have to sit with us if you don’t want to, but as far as I know you haven't met anyone else yet. I don’t want you to have to sit by yourself.”

“Maybe I’d rather sit by myself,” Harley muttered, and pushed past him. He’d grab a seat in the library to have his lunch, get an early start on homework, _whatever_ , but if there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was people feeling sorry for him. And Peter’s big, brown, puppy-dog eyes made Harley feel like… like some _charity case._ Isn’t that the phrase Peter had used the other day? He didn’t need this, he didn’t need _anyone’s_ help. “Leave me alone. I mean it, Parker.” He turned and started down the staircase, back to the first floor. Peter trailed determinedly after him.

“Look, I get it if you want to make other friends, and that’s totally fine, but are you seriously going to sit alone instead of joining us? Do you hate me _that_ much already?” Peter wondered, a bit of genuine hurt starting to edge into his voice. “I don’t get it. Mr. Stark said…”

Harley had actually felt a bit guilty when Peter had asked if he hated him, because the truth was he _didn’t._ He just didn’t want to be friends with someone who only cared about him because he had to. And every time Peter was nice to him—even if it was fake —Harley felt even worse about the jealousy he just couldn’t seem to entirely get rid of, as much as he didn’t want it there.

But then Peter had mentioned Tony, and Harley couldn’t _take_ it anymore. He knew that Tony had put Peter up to this, of course he did, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about it. Frankly, he didn’t want to hear one more word out of Peter’s mouth. He was so sick of the overwhelming positivity—how could one person be that happy, anyways? It had to be fake. He probably hated Harley already.

“God, Parker, will you please just drop it? I _want_ to be left alone,” Harley said, anger seeping into his voice. “Just go sit with your friends, and stop bothering me.”

Peter frowned. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “Nobody wants to be alone. Not really.”

Harley was so taken aback by these words that he didn’t know what to say.

“Listen,” Peter continued. “Even if it’s just for today, let me—”

Peter never got to finish his sentence. Because to get Harley’s attention he’d grabbed his forearm, and Harley didn’t think. He just reacted. He didn’t stop to consider that this was Peter, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, or that they were halfway down a staircase. It was a reflex, one he’d learned over time—he yanked his arm out of Peter’s grip. _Hard._

Harley only had time to realize what he’d done and to see Peter’s eyes go wide with surprise as he lost his balance and fell down the rest of the steps. He knocked the back of his head against the back wall, letting out a hiss of pain. He reached up to rub the back of his head, and stared up at Harley, expression confused.

Harley could only stare back, frozen. His mind was screaming at him, because Peter could be really hurt, but he couldn’t _do_ anything. He had no idea what to do. He’d just made someone fall down a flight of stairs on his first day of school— and not just someone, _Peter._ What would Tony say? He’d be pissed, that was for sure. Maybe he’d send Harley back to Rose Hill, regretting ever taking in such a screw-up in the first place. 

“Peter are you okay?!” Ned asked from behind Harley, clearly alarmed. He wasn’t frozen at all, in fact, he’d already started toward his best friend.

“Sorry,” was the first thing out of Peter’s mouth. He was still rubbing the back of his head, looking at Harley, dazed. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have...”

His words died in his throat and he cast his eyes to the ground, which is the exact moment Harley realized that everyone was staring at the two of them again. Harley’s face heated up with embarrassment, but then he realized...

No, they weren’t _both_ being stared at… just Peter. And countless other people in the stairwell were laughing.

Oh.

Harley considered, for the first time, that maybe Peter didn’t have too many friends either. Maybe he wasn’t doing this just for Tony.

But before he could say anything, Peter stood up—still with his eyes glued to the floor —and hurried down the rest of the stairs and out the door.

Harley took a half step forward, unsure what he planned to do. Go after him? Apologize, if Peter would even hear him out?

Peter’s friend, Ned, shoved Harley out of the way and started down the stairs, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder. “You win,” Ned told him, sounding absolutely furious. “We’ll leave you the hell alone.” Then he rushed out the door, and after his friend.

Harley didn’t feel like he’d won.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for waiting! I think I'm going to try to update this series on weekends from now on, because I still need to actually finish writing the third chapter (it's outlined already, of course). I'm super busy at the moment, but luckily I just had to edit this one. So, I hope you enjoy!

“Seriously, are you sure you’re okay to be on patrol right now?” Ned asked, clearly anxious though Peter couldn’t see his face. Talking to his best friend during patrols usually kept him calm, and gave him something to do when there wasn’t much in the way of actual hero work. This was one of those nights, and Peter was perched on the top of a building, scanning the streets below for any kind of red flag, but Ned was _still_ freaking out. “It seemed like you hit your head pretty hard.”

“I just had to pretend like it hurt because it _would_ if I were normal,” Peter told him. “The bump healed in, like, an hour, so I’m good. I’ve gone on patrol with actual concussions before, man. This is nothing.”

Ned groaned. “Don’t _tell_ me that. You know I worry too much.”

“Yeah, you do,” Peter said, with a grin. He shot a web to another nearby building and swung over to get a different angle of the streets below. “But if anything were to happen, you’d be the first to know. You’re my guy in the chair, right?”

He could hear from Ned’s voice that he was smiling too, if begrudgingly. “Yeah, I know.” Ned paused, seeming to hesitate. “Why didn’t you stop yourself from falling in the first place, though? You still wouldn’t have raised any suspicion if you’d just caught yourself on the railing, you know.”

Peter frowned. It was a good question, and one he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about when he was trying to do his homework earlier. Why _hadn’t_ he caught himself? The answer was simple, though it just led to more questions. “I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I… my spider senses didn’t act up. I didn’t see any danger coming. I guess it’s because it was an accident?”

“Even if it was an accident, that Harley guy’s a real jerk,” Ned said, anger seeping into his voice yet again. “I mean, you were just trying to be nice! Would it have killed him to be nice back?!”

Peter frowned, wanting to object but not really having much evidence to do so. “Ned—”

“And when you fell down the stairs, he didn’t even apologize!” Ned continued, not to be deterred. “He just stood there, while everyone was laughing at you!”

“ _Ned_ ,” Peter said again. “I know, I was there.”

Ned was quiet for a moment. “Sorry. I’m just mad! Are you going to tell Mr. Stark that the kid he’s taken in is a complete asshole?”

Peter blanched. “ _No,_ of course not! He’s not an asshole, Ned, he just wanted to be left alone! I should’ve listened to him, it’s fine...”

Ned was not impressed. “He pushed you down a flight of stairs!”

“I _fell_ ,” Peter reminded him. “Besides, Mr. Stark would probably take his side. Ever since he found out that Harley got into Midtown, it’s all he’s talked about! Mr. Stark has known Harley since he was twelve years old— they met when everyone thought he was dead, but really he’d just been in some small town? Harley was in the small town, he lived with him for a bit. Mr. Stark… he was so _excited_ that Harley was coming to stay with him full time to go to school. He cares about him a lot, I can’t just… I wouldn’t want to do anything to sabotage that.”

Ned’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “Peter, Mr. Stark cares about _you_ a lot, too. You know that.”

Peter did, deep down. But… “Still, I can’t possibly compete with that. He’s known Harley for four years, and he’s only known me for one, if that. I’ll stay out of Harley’s way from now on,” Peter said, with a sigh. “I just… I don’t know, I feel bad. Mr. Stark really wanted us to get along.”

“That’s not _your_ fault,” Ned pointed out. “Peter, seriously, if it’s going to bother you this much, then you should really talk about it with—”

“I am _not_ talking about this with Mr. Stark! Like I said, it’s fine, telling him would only—”

“Peter, you are receiving an incoming call from Mr. Stark,” Karen’s voice spoke up, nearly causing Peter to slip off of the ledge he was perched on. “Would you like to answer it?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Peter cursed. “I gotta take this, or he’ll know something’s up. Sorry, Ned! Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yep, see you then. Don't die!” Ned reminded him, then hung up with a loud click.

“Karen, put Mr. Stark through. And keep scanning for any kind of criminal activity, there must be _something,_ ” Peter told her. He really needed a win, right now. He swung over to the next building, and waited for the sound of the call connecting. “Hey, Mr. Stark. Sorry for the delay, I’m on patrol right now. You sorta caught me off guard.”

“I thought you didn’t _get_ caught off guard, kid,” Mr. Stark teased, though there was an edge to his voice that Peter recognized. He was trying not to sound worried even though knowing that Peter was on patrol instantly made him so. “Everything going all right, I hope?”

“If by ‘all right’ you mean infuriatingly slow, then yeah,” Peter said. “Karen hasn’t picked up on any suspicious activity all night. I might move lower to the ground, see if I can find anything her scanners wouldn’t pick up.”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Not your _patrol_ , kid, though I guess I’m relived it hasn’t been _too_ eventful. I just meant to ask how things are going, in general? You didn’t stop by this weekend, I wanted to know how you’ve been. Not overworking yourself again, I hope?”

“Oh.” Peter could kick himself. “No, I’m good. I’ll probably head home soon if nothing changes out here, and I don’t have too much work since it’s the start of the semester. That’ll change pretty quickly, though. Otherwise it’s been pretty uneventful, even when I’m doing… you know, _this._ ”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Mr. Stark said. “Especially considering that, according to your suit, you’ve been talking on the phone with Ned every night this week while on patrol.”

“That— I don’t— how do you know that?” Peter sputtered, which made Mr. Stark laugh again.

“Kid, do you actually keep forgetting that I _built_ your suit? I was the one who gave Karen the ability to put phone calls through your comm link, so that I could check up on you like this. And I can see your call history.”

“You _look_ at my call history?” Peter asked. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed— he only really ever talked to Ned, May, and Mr. Stark himself —but still! “I can’t believe this. Is there any part of my suit you haven’t child-proofed?”

“I’ve child-proofed it as much as possible for someone whose job is quite literally to go out on ‘patrol’ and look for trouble,” Mr. Stark said. “And no, I don’t _usually_ look at your call history, but FRIDAY informed me you were speaking to someone else when I tried to contact you, and I got curious. It’s kind of hard to not notice these things, because again, I did build the suit.”

Peter sighed. He could tell this was an argument he wasn’t going to win, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. “You didn’t notice when I hacked the suit.”

Tony was silent for a moment, and Peter feared he’d crossed a line.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“Unbelievable,” Tony whispered. “I have to deal with _two_ teenagers sassing me at every turn, now. Peter, I’m surprised at you. You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

Peter snorted at that. “You don’t think Harley’s nice, Mr. Stark?” _Then why’d you invite him to stay with you?_

“He can be nice when he _wants_ to be, but he’s a little shit to me most of the time, since he knows that he’s one of the few people that I’ll tolerate snide remarks from,” Tony grumbled. “Hey, how was Harley’s first day, anyway? Little prick won’t tell me anything about it, says it’s ‘none of my business.’ And I know you have quite a few classes together.”

“I’m assuming that was your doing?” Peter was unsure whether he should be pleased at the effort Mr. Stark made or disappointed about how severely it had failed.

“Yeah, yeah, I might’ve made a few recommendations,” Mr. Stark said. “You both enjoy giving me grey hairs, I figured you might get along.” He paused, hesitating, and Peter took the moment of silence to move to a lower building nearby. “So…did he seem to like it at Midtown?”

“What, Harley?” Peter asked, then regretted it immediately, though he’d mostly said it to stall for time. Of course he meant Harley, who else would Mr. Stark be talking about? “Uh… I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to know whether or not a school is perfect for you from the first day.”

“Right, right, but… he seemed kind of upset about something when he got home. Did anything happen?”

Peter made a split second decision, remembering what he’d said to Ned. “Nothing specific that I can think of, unless something happened in one of the classes we don’t have together. He’s probably just homesick, Mr. Stark. Maybe he misses his friends at his old school.”

Mr. Stark was silent for a bit, again. “Harley didn’t have many friends at his old school,” he said, finally.

_I wonder why,_ Peter thought bitterly, then immediately felt bad. He had gathered that Harley wasn’t the type to make friends easily, which was part of why he had tried so hard to reach out. But it didn’t seem like Harley _wanted_ friends. It was almost like he’d been actively trying to get Peter to dislike him. He certainly didn’t like _Peter_.

Peter didn’t think he could ever hate Harley, especially not after hearing such good things from someone he trusted as much as Mr. Stark, but… he’d leave him alone, if that’s what he really wanted.

“Maybe you’re right, though,” Mr. Stark continued, sounding tired. “He probably just needs some time to readjust, get into the swing of things. Still, you’ll keep an eye on him for me, right, kid? His happiness is really important to me— it’s why I asked him to stay in the first place —and if there’s anyone I can trust to check up on him, it’s you. And not just because you’re in a position to easily do so, either.”

Peter wouldn’t have been opposed to doing it normally, of course not, but… but it was more than that. He’d genuinely wanted to get to know Harley, because he seemed like an amazing person and it wasn’t every day that Peter found someone who he could relate to on so many fronts, but if Harley hadn’t wanted Peter to even _speak_ to him then he highly doubted the other boy would take kindly to Peter ‘checking up on him.’ “He… seems pretty capable of taking care of himself.”

“You’re right, but I’d still feel better knowing he had someone looking out for him, since he’s pretty new to this whole… city-living thing.”

Peter sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on him, Mr. Stark.”

“Thanks. I know I can always count on you, Spider-Kid.”

“It’s _Spider-Man_ ,” Peter reminded him. He felt unbelievably guilty for lying to Mr. Stark, though, especially when he said things like _that_. But he wasn’t about to sell Harley out, either. He’d just have to watch out for Harley from… afar? Well, that sounded a bit stalker-y, now that Peter thought about it. But he could manage. “Thanks, though, Mr. Stark.”

“No need to thank me, Pete, just the truth,” Mr. Stark told him. “It’ll be nice to work with both you and Harley in the lab again this Wednesday, though. He caught on surprisingly fast, don’t you think? We were able to get work done much faster."

And the hopefulness that had been slowly building in Peter over the past few minutes just dropped. He’d sort of been hoping that working in the lab would remain just the two of them, especially now that he knew Harley hated his guts on principle. But it was Mr. Stark’s choice who he had at _his_ house… or compound, anyway. Peter didn’t have any right to question his decision. He could, however, simply skip lab day. Which he’d never done before. But he was sure it would be fine.

“Actually, Mr. Stark, I have a lot of schoolwork to do this week. So, I might not be able to come to the compound this Wednesday after all.”

A pause, then, “I thought you said you didn’t have much work to do this week, because it’s the start of the semester?

_Shit._ Peter really wasn’t on a roll today. “Y-Yeah, but on Thursday I have a review exam? In… in Bio? And it’s all stuff we learned last semester, but I should still _study_ for it, you know, so—”

He was saved from his own mediocre at best lie by Karen’s voice cutting into the conversation. “Peter, I have detected two individuals armed with handguns approximately two blocks from your location. They appear to be attempting to mug a third individual.”

Peter leaped into action immediately, swinging in the direction of the marker that had appeared in his field of vision. He swung quickly from roof to roof. “Sorry, Mr. Stark, duty calls. I gotta focus, I’ll talk to you… soon.”

“All right,” Mr. Stark replied, though he sounded reluctant. “Let me know about Wednesday, and when you get home. And be careful!”

“Mr. Stark, I stop muggings all the time, this is nothing.”

A sigh. “I know, kid, but I still worry.” And then he hung up, with a small click.

Peter was slightly surprised by this admission, but he couldn’t let it distract him. He had a job to do. He landed in the alleyway, at which the heads of the two men holding guns snapped up, and immediately pointed both of them in his direction. The third man— holding out his wallet —seemed to nearly collapse with relief.

Peter rolled his eyes, though none of them could see it. Small-time criminals like this were all the same, pointing their gun at the biggest threat, not even realizing they had a hostage they could’ve negotiated with. The second they pointed their weapons away from the victim, Peter could act, and the fight was basically already decided.

“Sorry, guys, but I don’t have any cash on me,” Peter sarcastically lamented, before dropping into a fighting stance.

* * *

Harley couldn’t keep himself from stealing glances at Peter all throughout second period Biology. Admittedly, yes, it _was_ partly due to the fact that he still felt like an asshole from the day prior, but it was _mostly_ on account of the black eye Peter was sporting. It hadn’t been there the day before.

Peter didn’t seem like the type of kid who would get into fights, and any other option was infinitely worse, so Harley was left wondering… what had _happened_? Peter wasn’t acting like anything was out of the ordinary, despite clearly having been punched in the face by _someone_ in the past twenty-four hours. And the worst part? So was everyone else! Harley was the only one who seemed at all concerned, which included the kid who was supposedly Peter’s best friend, Ned.

Harley stole another glance at Peter’s lab table across the aisle. He had half a mind to go up to him and demand to know what had happened. He had more than half a mind to bring it up with Mr. Stark.

A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Why do you keep staring at Peter?”

Harley jumped, and turned to look at the girl next to him in surprise. He knew her name was Michelle from when the teacher called for attendance, but he’d sat next to her because her lab table was one of two with an available seat, and she also sat in the back. But this was the first time she’d spoken directly to him. When he’d asked if he could sit next to her the previous day, she’d simply raised an eyebrow at his slight southern accent, then lifted her bags.

Harley, naturally, answered her question with one of his own. “Why do _you_ keep staring at him?” Because yeah, he’d noticed that.

The girl— Michelle —blinked. She clearly hadn’t been expecting that, but all she said was, “I asked you first.”

Harley frowned. “He’s got a black eye,” he said, voice soft. Though everyone in class could certainly see that for themselves, he wasn’t keen on gossiping loudly about a fellow classmate. “A pretty bad one, too, and no one seems concerned about it? At all?” He hadn’t mean for that to come out as a question.

She just smirked at him. “You really are new around here, huh.” At Harley’s incredulous expression, she continued. “That’s just how Peter… is, I guess. He’s always showing up to school with bruises, and stuff. I guess everyone else is just used to it by now.”

“They’re _used_ to it,” Harley echoed, voice full of disbelief. “And they don’t stop to wonder where he gets all the injuries?”

Michelle shrugged, but her expression was unreadable. “Peter is a total klutz. Whenever people ask, he just says that he fell or something.”

Anger was beginning to replace Harley’s previous concern. This was _ridiculous._ Peter had _clearly_ been punched, no matter what dumb excuse he tried to give. And that’s all that Michelle was saying Peter had— excuses that wouldn’t hold up under even the slightest amount of scrutiny.

Harley would know. He’d used a number of excuses like that himself, back in Rose Hill.

“And people believe that?” he asked her, careful to keep the growing annoyance out of his voice. People could be so infuriatingly _stupid_ , even at this genius school, apparently.

Michelle gave him another funny look that Harley had trouble interpreting. “Well, not many people care enough to actually ask,” she pointed out, and _damn_ , Harley felt like even more of an asshole now. Perfect. “Being one of the few poor souls who regularly tries to get reasonable explanations for Peter Parker’s questionable behavior, however, I have a few theories.”

Harley frowned. “And those theories would be?”

Michelle drew a finger to her lips. “Classified,” she said, with a smirk.

“Of course.” Harley turned back to his worksheet. “Why did I even ask?”

Michelle was still smirking at him, but the look in her eyes… flickered, briefly. So quick, Harley was sure he must’ve imagined it. “I’m kind of surprised that _you_ bothered to ask,” she told him. “I mean, aren’t you the new kid who pushed him down a flight of stairs yesterday?”

Harley winced. “That was an accident,” he muttered. “I don’t know, I just thought I was the only person who noticed at all, which was… worrying.”

Michelle hummed, expression still unreadable. “Why don’t you just ask Peter what happened? I’m not saying he’ll give you a straight answer, but he’ll at least appreciate the concern.”

“I doubt he wants to talk to me ever again,” Harley said, surprised to find himself disappointed by his own words. “I mean, whether I pushed him or not, he _did_ fall down a flight of stairs because of me.”

Michelle considered this. “Well, you won’t know unless you try,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s _Peter._ He’s a pretty firm believer in second chances. More than that, even. I mean, he still acts friendly towards Flash, so I’m sure if you just apologize and tell him it was an accident, he’ll be more than happy to forgive you.”

Harley wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know who Flash was, but Harley knew _he’d_ acted like a real jerk, and he didn’t want Peter to think he’d had a sudden change of heart out of pity. Hell, he’d spent the entire previous day telling Peter to leave him alone. Why would he bother to give Harley the time of day? And… it still freaked Harley out that the first thing Peter had done after falling down an entire flight of stairs was apologize to _him._

Michelle could apparently sense his indecision. “Listen, Keener. I think you’re all right. From what I saw yesterday, Peter thinks so, too, despite whatever you said or did. He’ll be willing to give you a chance if you give him one. He might surprise you.” Her small smile turned fond. “He’s good at that. Just _talk_ to him.”

Harley nodded. He could do that, at least. He could make things right. “Thanks. You know, you don’t seem too bad yourself, Michelle.”

Her nose wrinkled, just slightly. “None of that, thank you,” she said, and stuck out a hand for him to shake. “My friends call me MJ.”ss

Harley shook her hand, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his own face. He’d made a friend! This MJ girl had no idea that he knew Tony Stark, but she’d bothered to talk to him anyway. She’d wanted to talk to _him_ , just Harley Keener, the new kid from Tennessee.

And... she seemed to think Peter was somebody worth getting to know. Harley was starting to agree with her, though he still worried he’d ruined his shot at that. He risked another glance at Peter from across the room only to startle— Peter was staring right back at him.

Peter’s eyes flickered between Harley and MJ for a second before he realized that Harley was looking back, at which point Peter turned sharply away and fixed his gaze on the work in front of him. Harley did the same, confused and a little sheepish, though he didn’t know why. He’d apologize to Peter for the staring after class, too— but seriously, with that much bruising on his face, why was he surprised that he was attracting a little extra attention?

But Peter didn’t want to talk to him after class. Or at least, Harley gathered as much from how he made a beeline for the door as soon as the period was over, only stopping for a few moments to say goodbye to his friend, Ned, as they went in different directions in the hall.

Harley tried to chase after him, but _Jesus_ , was Peter fast. He didn’t have another chance in their other morning class together, either, but as luck would have it, he found Peter’s table at lunch. Granted, he’d been looking for MJ so that he could sit with her, and seeing Peter and Ned at the other end of the table had pretty much just been a stroke of luck— though maybe luck wasn’t the proper word, considering the knowing look on MJ’s face —but he wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste. Leaving his tray with MJ, he slid over until he was across from Peter. Ned was already scowling at him.

Peter sighed, unsurprised by this turn of events. “Look, I haven’t bothered you at all today. You told me to leave you alone, and I will. So, what do you want?”

Harley hesitated. “I… about yesterday, I—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Peter interrupted, waving a hand to dismiss Harley’s apology before it could even get out of his mouth.

Ned’s glare turned, if possible, even more angry. “Yes it _was_ ,” he hissed, and Peter elbowed him.

“No it wasn’t,” he replied in the same low voice before continuing. “I just lost my balance. If you’re just over here to apologize, don’t worry about it. I’ll just make sure I stay out of your way from now on, okay? Are we good now?”

Stay out of his way? “No, that’s… I…”

Harley was, once again, unable to think of the right thing to say. So naturally, he just blurted out the first thing that popped into his head out of sheer panic.

“You have a black eye!”

Peter blinked.“Oh, this?” Apparently, whatever he’d expected Harley to say, that hadn’t been it. He reached up a hand to ghost his fingers over the purple bruising that overtook nearly a quarter of his face. “This is just… it’s nothing.”

Harley raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Nothing,” he said, deadpan. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. It _looks_ like somebody punched you in the face.”

The beginnings of a grin tugged at the corners of Peter’s mouth, which only succeeded in making Harley more irritated at his lack of concern for himself. “What are you, worried?”

Harley frowned. “You came to school with a black eye. It’s a wonder more people aren’t at least _noticing_ it. Am I really the only person that’s worried?”

“I come to school like this all the time.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Harley demanded. MJ had said the same thing, but… Peter’s nonchalance about the whole thing was just stressing Harley out _more._ Was he really that used to being injured? “What _happened_? Does Tony know about this?”

Ned’s eyes were bouncing between Peter and Harley, growing increasingly wider.

Asking about Tony grabbed Peter’s attention, at least. He instantly sat up straighter. “Well, I… I didn’t tell Mr. Stark, because it’s not really important, you know? I’m a notorious klutz— ask anyone here, really —and that’s why I’m… yeah. I walked into a door.”

“You walked into a door,” Harley echoed. “Honestly, Parker, that’s the best excuse you could come up with?” Harley knew it was an excuse. Falling, walking into something, they were the oldest excuses in the book.

Harley had used them quite a few times himself.

“It’s… it’s true!” Ned piped up, in what was an even less convincing tone. “I was there! With him, I mean, when the… door walking happened.”

“Uh huh.” Harley eyed them both suspiciously. “Peter, if you don’t tell me what’s actually going on, I’m going to jump to my own conclusions, and—”

“Is that what you and MJ were talking about, in Bio?” Peter asked, in a not so subtle attempt to change the subject. “My black eye? I noticed that the two of you were staring at me a lot.”

“Yeah, because you very clearly got _punched_ in the _face_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter said, avoiding Harley’s gaze. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Harley opened his mouth to protest again, but the bell rang before he could get the words out. In what seemed like seconds, Peter and his friend were gone again, and Harley didn’t get another chance to talk to him all day. He’d learned from MJ that Peter, Ned, and her all were part of the Academic Decathlon Team, and Tony _had_ said he should take part in the various extracurriculars, so maybe Harley would look into that. As things stood, he hadn’t been able to get out a proper apology. He hadn’t even found out where Peter’s black eye had come from.

Still, could he really call the day a complete failure? After all… he _had_ met MJ. She didn’t seem to get along too well with others, either. Maybe he would have one good friend at Midtown. Maybe one friend could be enough. It was more than he’d had in Rose Hill, anyway, if you didn’t count Cass.

But deep down… Harley knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he couldn’t make things right with Peter. Not for Tony, but… for him. And he was determined to find out who’d given him the bruise, who he was protecting.

At dinner that night, Harley found himself lost in thought, unable to stop thinking of Peter’s bruised face, of the unknown reasoning behind it, of the way he’d brushed it off like nothing, the way everyone else was just ‘used to it.’

Did the teachers _seriously_ not care at all? The elementary school teachers in Rose Hill hadn’t cared, either, when Harley would show up to school looking worse for the wear, and he doubted that any of them connected the sudden cease of injuries with his father leaving just as suddenly.

But then again, they hadn’t cared when Harley had started getting beaten up by other _students_ in high school.

Was it Peter’s family? Was it someone at the school?

Harley didn’t buy the clumsiness schtick for one moment. True, he had seen Peter fall down an entire flight of stairs the previous day, but apart from that incident the other teen actually seemed pretty quick on his feet. And he seemed like he wouldn’t dare hurt a fly, either, so Harley sincerely doubted that Peter had instigated the fight.

The possibilities circled Harley’s brain without pause, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget about this until Peter told him what was going on, the _truth_ about what was going on.

“What’s the matter there, Keener?” Tony asked, making Harley startle and glance up. His mouth was quirked to one side. “You’ve been glaring at your peas since we sat down. I get it, Pepper’s cooking is no match for a good cheeseburger, but—”

“Hey,” Pepper cut him off, voice dangerous. “You better watch yourself, or _you’ll_ make dinner for the rest of the week. And I’d like to avoid subjecting Harley to your cooking.”

Tony held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Fine, fine, the food is amazing, of course,” he said, with a subtle wink that made the corners of Harley’s mouth twitch up, just slightly. “But that just means there’s even more reason to actually _eat_ it, not just angrily stab things with your fork. What’s wrong, kid? Do you not like the school?”

Harley sighed, small smile falling as fast as it had come. “School’s fine,” he mumbled, then remembered himself. “Uh, better than fine, even.”

Tony raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” Harley insisted. “The workload isn’t too bad, all of my classes are much more interesting than they were at Rose Hill, and the people… well, even if they aren’t necessarily welcoming me with open arms, the majority of people feeling indifferent towards me is still better than before, too. I...” He hesitated. “I even made a friend, already.”

At that, Tony _beamed._ “See, I knew it! I knew you and Peter would get along— you’re so similar, I figured you’d be two peas in a pod. Thank goodness the school let me pick your schedule to match up with his. I _knew_ —”

“I wasn’t talking about Peter,” Harley said, voice a touch too irritated for Tony not to take notice. Both he and Pepper blinked, then exchanged a wary look. Harley scrambled to cover up the mistake. “I… the girl who’s my lab partner in Bio, I also ended up sitting with her at lunch today.” As an afterthought, he added, “She sits at the same table as Peter?” Not technically a lie.

“Oh,” Tony said, then brightened again. “That’s great, Harley. I’m glad you found someone that you get along with.”

Harley nodded eagerly, glad to take the conversation away from one Peter Parker. “Yeah, MJ and I seem to have a lot in common, especially our senses of humor. I’m excited to—”

“Wait.” This time it was Pepper who spoke up. “Did you say MJ? That’s this girl’s name?”

“Yeah?” Harley wasn’t sure what the confusion was about. “Her name’s Michelle Jones, but she goes by MJ. You go by ‘Pepper,’ though, so I don’t really know what the problem with that is. I think it’s kinda cool.”

Pepper snorted, but she still looked worried about something. “She’s on the Academic Decathlon team?”

Harley nodded, still wondering what the big deal was. Then it hit him— Tony and Pepper clearly knew that MJ and Peter were already friends. “Yeah, I guess she and Peter sort of know each other. I told you they sit at the same table, didn’t I? Why does that matter?”

Tony and Pepper glanced at each other again. “Don’t tell Pete that I told you this,” Tony began, lowering his voice conspiratorially though the other boy wasn’t anywhere near them. “But I’m pretty sure he’s got a crush on MJ. I don’t know if he’s even realized it himself yet, but he doesn’t shut up about her, once he gets started. So just… try to avoid making me deal with a teenage love triangle.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening,” Harley deadpanned. He hadn’t come out to Tony yet, or anyone here, but MJ decidedly wasn’t Harley’s type. He’d tell them eventually, although he wasn’t too fond of the idea of revealing the secret that had gotten him relentlessly teased in Rose Hill to the entirety of New York City. Even if people here _were_ more okay with that sort of thing. “Huh. Now that you mention it, I think they might work well together. She talks about him a lot, too.”

“It’s adorable.” Pepper agreed, with another small smile.“We haven’t met her, but… I think it’s nice that he has a crush again, after what happened the last time.”

As if _that_ didn’t raise countless red flags. “Last time?” Harley asked. Just like that, his mind had wandered back to the black eye. “What happened ‘last time?’”

Pepper’s eyes widened, and she turned to Tony. “He doesn’t know about—?”

“Anyway,” Tony cut her off sharply, looking a bit panicked. “I’m excited that you made a friend, Harley. Maybe you and Peter can both bring people over to help work in the lab, one of these days; he’s been trying to get me to invite… what’s his friend’s name again? Ted… no, Ned. Maybe all four of you would enjoy it, after all, you _do_ all go to that fancy nerd school. And I could certainly use the help.” His face fell as another thought occurred to him. “Although we probably can’t this Wednesday, right? Peter told me about the review test he has in Bio on Thursday, and all four of you are in that class together, right? Maybe we can do it next week.”

Harley’s brow furrowed in confusion. Their teacher hadn’t said anything about a… _oh_.

Peter had lied. For him

Peter had lied to his _boss_ , Tony fucking Stark, for Harley, who had been very adamant about not wanting to be Peter’s friend. Who had pushed him down a flight of stairs. Come to think of it, Peter must’ve lied to Tony about _that,_ too! Was he seriously going to skip his day to work on superhero suits and Stark tech in the interest of keeping Harley happy?

Well, Peter was an idiot if he thought _this_ was what Harley wanted. The other boy clearly had a knack for making him feel like a complete and utter jerk.

Tony was staring at him, equally confused now, and Harley mentally cursed himself. If Peter was going to lie for him, the least _he_ could do would be to make sure that Tony doesn’t catch him in the act. Harley slapped a palm to his forehead in mock forgetfulness.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, hoping his voice sounded more convincing to Tony’s ears than his own. “I forgot about that. Damn, I have a lot of material to study.”

“Good luck with that,” Tony said, with a small laugh. “And you said that you have a manageable workload.” This gave him pause, and he quickly continued. “Hey, hang on, you changed the subject on me! We’ve been talking on and on about school, but you _still_ haven’t told me what’s bothering you.”

Harley frowned. “Nothing’s—”

“Yeah, nice try, Keener, but that’s not going to work on me. I can read you like a book, and you’re pretty worked up about _something_ ,” Tony said. “So? Out with it.”

Harley sucked in a breath. He should lie, right? For Peter? But… but Tony was bound to see it eventually, and Harley lying would just land them _both_ in even more trouble. Plus, this was serious. Maybe Tony knew something about who had caused it, if Peter was actually injured as often as MJ said, but regardless… he’d want to know now. Maybe Harley couldn’t get a straight answer out of Peter, but if anyone could, it’d be Tony.

Harley squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself, then said all the words in one breath. “ _Peter came to school with a black eye today._ ”

Tony’s bemused expression dropped faster than Harley would’ve thought possible. “What?”

“Peter came to school with a black eye today,” Harley repeated, slower this time. “I asked him about it, but he made up some dumb excuse and just brushed me off. I… I’m worried.”

Tony and Pepper both stared at Harley for several moments, seemingly at a loss for words.

Eventually, Tony cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, expression unreadable. “What did Peter say happened? I’m sure it’s nothing that warrants worrying about.”

Harley couldn’t believe it. “He said he walked into a _door_ ,” Harley told them. “That’s the dumbest excuse in the book. There’s no way that’s actually what—”

“It does sound like something Peter would do,” Pepper chimed in quickly, too quickly. “If that’s what he told you, I’d just try to forget about it.”

Harley’s eyes narrowed. “Do you two… do you _know_ why he had a black eye?”

Tony and Pepper exchanged yet another confusing look, and Harley felt his blood boil.

“You do,” he said, outraged. “You… and you aren’t doing anything to stop it?”

“Stop what?” Tony asked, voice tighter than it had been just moments ago.

“Him getting hurt!” Harley stood up, glaring at both of them. He’d lost his appetite completely. “According to MJ, he comes to school with bruises all the time. Do you two know who’s causing it?! Is it his parents?”

“ _No_ ,” Tony said immediately, also pushing himself to his feet, so they were once again eye level. “It’s not his family. Trust me, kid, I’ve been to Peter’s house countless times. He’s not getting anything but love and support there.”

_Lucky for Peter,_ Harley thought bitterly, then shoved it out of his head as the image of Peter with bruising covering nearly half of his face returned to him. “That’s what everyone always thinks,” Harley muttered. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to tell you. If I ask him about it…”

Harley trailed off, the words dying before they even had a chance to become a full idea. If Harley asked about it, what did he think would happen? Peter would ignore him. If he wouldn’t open up to Tony, then Harley didn’t have a chance in hell. Did he _really_ think that his own sob story would get Peter to spill his? Please.

“Don’t ask him about it,” Tony told him, voice serious. “I mean it. He’s sensitive about his family, he won’t like it if you imply that they’re the ones hurting him.”

“So you admit there’s _someone_ hurting him!” Harley knew his voice was getting louder and louder, he just didn’t care. “Who—”

“I don’t _know_ _!_ ” Tony shouted, and Harley reeled back, unable to keep himself from flinching. Tony stepped back at that, looking regretful, but thankfully he didn’t comment on it. “I don’t… I don’t know, okay, Harley? He doesn’t tell me about it when stuff like this happens. If I knew who’d given my kid a black eye, they’d end up far worse off, assuming they’re not already.”

Harley blinked. That… that didn’t make any sense. How could Tony know about Peter’s frequent injuries, but not the source? Something wasn’t adding up. And ‘assuming they’re not already?’ Was Tony insinuating that Peter _did_ get into fights, after all?

No way. Not Peter. The guy was softer than anyone, even after growing up in New York City.

“Tony,” Pepper admonished softly, and Harley understood the meaning behind her words perfectly. _He said too much._

Tony seemed to realize it, too, because he abruptly whirled on his heel, and stormed out of the room. “I’m going to call Peter,” he told them over his shoulder, not bothering to pause. “Make sure he’s not more badly hurt.”

More badly hurt than a _black eye_? Just what—

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Pepper told Harley, wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Peter really can be clumsy. Maybe we should get him a pair of glasses, so he doesn’t go walking into things again.”

“Right,” Harley mumbled, sinking back down into his seat and scowling at his plate. _If they really think that Peter was just clumsy, then_ they _were blind._

Harley would get to the bottom of this.

* * *

“For the last time, Ned,” Peter groaned, frustrated. His best friend was a blessing on slow days, but his calls during patrols could be exhausting, too. “I didn’t know there was a third guy, okay? Bad guys are getting smart now, apparently, now that small crimes have to worry about superheroes intervening, too. He just snuck up on me.”

“I thought that people _couldn’t_ sneak up on you,” Ned pointed out.

Peter sighed. “My senses aren’t always specific, you know that. My spider senses were telling me there was danger, but since I was already fighting two guys, I figured it was just because of that.”

“Well, but you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, fine. The black eye would’ve been gone by now, but I got some bruised ribs too, and I guess my healing factor took care of those first.”

“Bruised _ribs_?” Ned echoed, horrified.

“Yeah,” Peter winced at the memory. “That guy had some pointy elbows." And heavy feet. "But really, I’m fine.”

Ned didn’t sound convinced. “As long as you’re sure you can still do patrols. Did Mr. Stark say it was okay?”

Peter hesitated. “Well… I didn’t exactly… _tell_ Mr. Stark?”

“ _Dude_.”

“It’s a minor injury!” Peter argued. “I get those all the time; it’s part of patrol. Am I supposed to tell Mr. Stark about it _every_ single time I get so much as a bruise?”

“I believe that’s what he wants you to do, yes.”

“Whatever, man. He knows I can handle myself,” Peter said. “And he worries too much about the little things. If I told Mr. Stark everything that happened on patrols, he’d have died of a heart attack by now.”

“Oh, because that reasoning is _so_ comforting,” Ned teased. “But I think it’s an oversight for you to assume that he won’t find out anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, his ‘baby monitor’ protocols are irritating, but FRIDAY won’t alert him unless I’m in serious—”

“No, man, I meant _Harley_ ,” Ned interrupted. “He was super freaked out by your black eye today, remember? Apparently he kept asking MJ about it.”

“Right,” Peter said, distracted, eyes trained on the streets below him. Karen’s crime scanner was running again. “Hey, are they friends now? Harley and MJ? They sure were talking a lot today.”

There was a beat of unimpressed silence on Ned’s end. “Your crush is not the biggest problem at hand, Peter.”

“I do _not_ have a—”

“The baby monitor protocol doesn’t matter at all if Harley tells Mr. Stark that you came in all black and blue today. Which he very well may do, since he has no idea you moonlight as a crime-fighting superhero,” Ned told him. “I mean, it’s no wonder he was so worried.”

“Oh, yeah right. Harley Keener was not worried about _me_ _,_ he hates me.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But it didn’t seem like it today.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Regardless, even if he _does_ say something to Mr. Stark, it doesn’t matter. He knows about Spider-Man, so he’ll just guess it’s something from patrol. It’s just some bruises, nothing that won't go away on its own. Mr. Stark wouldn’t care about something so small.”

They were interrupted by Karen’s voice saying, “Peter, Mr. Stark would like to speak with you. He says it’s of the utmost importance.”

Ned snorted. “You sure he doesn’t care?” he asked, and then hung up without waiting for Peter’s answer. He didn’t even have time to collect his thoughts before Mr. Stark was speaking to him.

“Hey, kid,” he said, voice already irritated. “Were you ever going to tell me about the black eye, or were you going to let me find out on my own?”

Shit. “Harley told you?”

“Harley told me.” Peter could practically hear Mr. Stark’s disappointment. “Kid, we’ve talked about this. You’re supposed to report _any_ injuries to me, even if you don’t need medical attention.”

“It’s not a big deal, though,” Peter mumbled. “I mean, I get bruises like that often enough.My healing factor typically gets rid of them in, like, a day.”

“Is the fact that you ‘often’ get punched in the face supposed to be reassuring?”

“I guess, yeah. It’s sorta part of the job, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I don’t get hurt every patrol, but once in a while people get the drop on me. But don’t worry about it, the worst of my injuries are already taken care of, and I’m sure by tomorrow my—”

“The _worst_ of your injuries?” Mr. Stark repeated. “What injuries, exactly, are you referring to?”

Peter resisted the urge to curse. “Um. Bruised ribs?”

A deep inhale. “ _Peter_.”

“It’s fine!” Peter said quickly. “They’ve already healed!”

“You weren’t going to tell me about this, either?”

“I… didn’t want you to get worried about nothing,” Peter told him, voice going soft.

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re hurt, kid,” Mr. Stark said. “And you know me— I’m going to worry about you no matter what.”

“But that’s why me telling you about small stuff like this is dumb!” Peter argued. “I’m fine, really— this is an inconvenience at worst. And… I don’t know, you’re a busy guy. I don’t want to bother you with stuff I can handle.”

“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, kid, trust me.” Mr. Stark had calmed down now too, thankfully. “You proved that earlier this year, against the Vulture. But that’s exactly why you shouldn’t worry about _bothering_ me. We both made mistakes that we need to learn from, and I don’t want to ignore you when you need me again. Even if you don’t need me, I’m still here for you. And at this point, I don’t think you could really bother me if you tried, Peter.”

Peter snorted. “Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed, but it sounded fond. “Yeah, all right,” he muttered. “But seriously— keeping stuff like this from me is just going to stress me out more. I mean, I had to find out from _Harley_ , who was pretty freaked himself. He doesn’t know about the Spider-Man thing, and I’m pretty sure he’s still trying to sleuth out who punched your lights out. Probably best if you’re aware of that.”

“Great. Am I going to have to tell him I got mugged, or something?”

Tony laughed, but Peter’s amusement dissolved as his attention snagged on a figure walking across the street below the building he remained perched atop, hidden in the shadows.

_Oh, you have_ got _to be kidding me_.

None other than Harley Fucking Keener was strolling down the streets of Queens in the dead of night, by himself and completely unbothered.

Jesus, maybe he _should_ tell Harley that he’d gotten mugged. It wasn’t really that uncommon. And maybe it’d stop him from being a total idiot and going on walks alone at night. In New York.

Peter could just rat him out right now— and he seriously considered it—but he’d already stressed Mr. Stark out enough for one night. He probably had no idea Harley wasn’t home, and he’d feel awful for not realizing when in reality Harley was just sneaky as hell, and would probably do it again if Tony told him not to. Maybe he’d listen to a superhero he hadn’t met before?

Only one way to find out.

“Uh, speaking of getting mugged, Mr. Stark? I think I’m going to have to call you back. Karen’s picked up on some potential shady activity.” Peter didn’t wait for Mr. Stark to answer or to warn him to be careful, he just hung up. He didn’t want to give him a chance to realize Peter was lying.

He leaped off the side of the building and landed directly in front of Harley, making the other teen reel back. He realized, belatedly, that maybe he should’ve given Harley some sort of warning— he had his fists raised in Peter’s direction, as if prepared for a fight.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Peter said quickly, lifting his own hands in a placating gesture. He made sure to talk in a lower voice than his own. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have just dropped down like that, huh? I’m not here to fight you, I promise.”

Harley’s eyes, which had widened with surprise when Peter landed, now narrowed with a vague sort of recognition. “Wait, I’ve seen you before. You’re… you’re the Spider-Guy, right?”

Peter sighed. “Spider-Man,” he corrected. Why did people always make that mistake? “And yeah, I guess I’ve gone pretty viral on YouTube, so—”

“No,” Harley cut him off, with a shake of his head. “You climbed the Washington Monument, saved a bunch of kids in the elevator… hey, didn’t they go to Midtown? Regardless, for a superhero no one knows the true identity of, that was a pretty big deal. And I heard you also saved a plane full of Tony’s stuff earlier this year, sounded really important.I didn’t think I’d get to meet you.”

“Huh.” Peter didn’t know what else to say to that. He was still getting used to the idea of people recognizing him for the big stuff. It had all happened earlier in the school year, and it all felt so new. Mr. Stark had been right— he’d really made a name for himself. “I mean, uh, yeah, that was me. Did Mist— Iron Man mention that to you? I didn’t think it was really put in the press much.”

“Yeah, Tony hardly shuts up about you,” Harley said, then looked confused. “Hang on, how did you know that I knew him?”

“You called him ‘Tony,’ for one,” Peter pointed out. “Besides, he doesn’t shut up about you, either. Last time I was at the Compound you were all he’d talk about. Harley Keener, right?”

Harley nodded, looking positively starstruck. Peter had to admit; it was funny. Harley probably would’ve just left if he knew who was behind the mask. “I can’t believe you know my name,” he said softly. “A real superhero.”

Peter snorted. “Iron Man knows your name. You’re living with him,”

Harley waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t count. I met him when I was twelve. But you… say, how often are you at the Compound? I live there now, so I guess we’ll probably run into each other there.” He sounded excited by the mere thought.

That… actually hadn’t occurred to Peter. He’d always assumed after he befriended Harley that he’d let him in on the whole Spider-Man loop, and so he’d be used to seeing Peter in both forms. But if Harley didn’t know… then Peter would be seeing him as Spider-Man quite a bit. “I mean, I have to go any time there’s anything wrong with my suit,” Peter told him. “Iron Man did design it after all.”

Harley’s mouth dropped open. “ _Tony_ made your suit?” he demanded, still sounding uncharacteristically impressed. “No way! You two must really be pretty close then, right? I mean, he’s only ever made a suit for Rhodey before, unless you count Pepper. And I’m still not sure if he’s joking about the one he’s been making her or not.”

“I guess we are pretty close, yeah,” Peter mused, then mentally kicked himself. What was he _doing_? He had to focus on the most pressing matter at hand. “Which is why I’m here, I suppose. Does he know that you’re currently out and wandering the streets of New York by yourself? Because I can’t imagine this is the kind of behavior Iron Man would endorse from his kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” Harley said automatically, though he did at least have the sense to look sheepish. “And…well, I dunno. I got bored.”

“You got bored,” Peter echoed. Was this how exasperated Mr. Stark felt when Peter was doing something stupid? “New York can be pretty dangerous at night, especially if you don’t know your way around. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you appear to be wandering aimlessly, which is basically asking for trouble.”

“I can handle myself,” Harley said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you think I’m a stranger to trouble just because I’m from Tennessee?”

“I think that _you_ think you’re indestructible since you didn’t get killed when Mr. Stark roped you into all this when you were a kid, and I also think you shouldn’t push your luck. There’s no good reason for you to be out here like this, unless you’re _looking_ to get yourself hurt.”

“I’m just walking,” Harley shot back, stubborn. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Peter blinked. “Oh, you poor, sweet, country boy.”

“ _Hey_ —”

“I grew up in this city,” Peter interrupted. “So when I say I know a few things about New York, I mean it. But you don’t have to be an expert on these streets to know that the kid recently taken in by _Tony Stark,_ a man with a lot of enemies and even more potential ransom money, shouldn’t be walking by himself at night anywhere, much less in the city where the majority Earth’s mightiest heroes have fought, and many of Earth’s most irritating _thugs_ still hang out.”

Harley’s face had gone pale. He clearly hadn’t thought about the dangers that came with being Tony Stark’s ward.

“I mean, even if you weren’t living with one of the most famous men in the world, it still probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” Peter amended, hoping to ease some of the other boy’s panic. “Still, as someone that’s lived here for a good bit, I can’t exactly blame you. It’s pretty beautiful at night, and when the old insomnia acts up there’s nothing better than the city that never sleeps to make you feel a little bit less alone.”

A small smile came onto Harley’s face then, and Peter knew he’d done something right. “It is beautiful here, right?” he said softly. “All the buildings, so close together… all the _lights._ I get that it was probably stupid of me, but… how can I not want to see it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I… I can’t believe I get to live here.”

Peter couldn’t help it. He felt an unbelievable rush of fondness for Harley in that moment— seeing him in so much awe at the city that Peter lived and breathed was… well, it was sweet. He hadn’t gotten to see this side of Harley yet, the side without the edge, not really.

Maybe Harley didn’t want to be Peter’s friend, but… maybe he could be Spider-Man’s.

Peter could live with that.

“Well, since you’re a New Yorker now, you’ll have plenty of time to explore,” Peter told him, smiling now, too, though Harley couldn't see it. “But I think maybe you’d better do that during the day, if you insist on being alone. But Iron Man’s no stranger to not being able to sleep, so if you wanted him to come with you, I’m sure he would. I just got off the phone with him, so I know he’s in his lab right now.”

Harley laughed, and Peter took that as a win. “You’re… I mean, you guys are both superheroes, right? So you work together?” He bit his lip. “Are you… going to tell him that you bumped into me?”

Peter hesitated. Wondered if what he was about to say was a good idea. But… Harley seemed to like him, or at least _this_ version of him. This was what Peter had wanted their relationship to be like, not… whatever it had turned into now. He decided right then and there that he wouldn’t do anything to screw this up. “I’d have to if you’d gotten yourself into any actual trouble,” Peter told him. “But seeing as you’ve avoided dying for this long, I’ll keep this between us. Just don't do it again."

Harley’s grin grew wider. “Thanks, Spider-Man.”

“No problem,” Peter said, with a tiny salute. “But seeing as my AI isn’t picking up any crimes on the scanner, I’m considering getting you home safe my mission for the night. Congratulations, Harley Keener, you’ve just earned yourself your own personal superhero guide to New York. Let’s get you back to the Compound before Tony notices and promptly has a heart attack.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. I think I can manage to—”

“Be honest. Do you have any idea where you are right now? Or how to get back?”

Harley opened his mouth to respond, then closed it without a word. Peter snorted.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “Word of advice, Harley— don’t just take the subway somewhere random then get off and start wandering, okay? That is the quickest way to get lost, and it’s really not that hard to find your way around. The streets have _numbers_ on them.”

“Oh, easy for you to say,” Harley grumbled. “You’ve lived here your whole life! It’s confusing.” He paused, considering. “Though… I guess I wouldn’t _mind_ being shown the way back. If you’re not busy doing anything else.”

Peter smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he said, then an idea occurred to him, equal parts fantastic and ill-advised. “Hey, do you wanna take a shortcut?”

Harley shrugged. “You very obviously know more about New York than I do. As long as it gets me home before Tony notices, it’s fine with me.”

“I hope you don’t regret those words later,” Peter said, still grinning. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Harley took half a step back, then glanced down at his feet as if surprised by the reflexive action. “Well, a little bit less now,” he said. “But you’re a superhero. You’ve saved countless people, and Tony trusts you enough to give you that suit, so… yeah. Of course I trust you.”

“Good,” Peter gave him a small nod before springing into action. In seconds he had closed the distance between them, and swept his left arm around Harley’s shoulders, pulling him close and lifting him up— though taller than Peter, he was surprisingly light —as he shot up a web with his right. “Don’t let go.”

“Wait, wait, what’re you— _AAAAAH!_ What the _hell_?!”

Peter laughed as Harley’s words dissolved into another scream, then several more creative swears, most some variant of _fuck._ Surprisingly, however, after another few moments, Harley was laughing, too. He clung tightly to Peter, since he had to focus on casting his webs and couldn’t hang onto him with both of his hands, but he was staring down at the ground with excitement rather than fear. His eyes were wide, his curls blowing around his face, and he wore the same ear-to-ear grin Peter had been fortunate enough to witness for the first time earlier.

“Fastest shortcut I know,” Peter called over the wind, his laughter still caught in his voice.

“ _THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING!_ ” Harley yelled back, and it practically made Peter’s ears bleed, what with his advanced hearing, but it was worth it. Harley looked like he’d never been so happy. “ _WE HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN!”_

Peter shot out another web to the windowsill of the closest skyscraper, pulling them the highest they’d been yet, and Harley _whooped_ into the open air. Peter couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind— Harley and Peter aren't a ship in this. They're brothers, it's in the title. I sprinkled in some Peter and MJ, because that's a minor relationship I wanted to address in this work/AU as a whole. But the MCU is severely lacking in LGBTQ+ characters, and since we don't know a lot about Harley I headcanon that he's gay. I don't mind the two of them together, I just like them better as brothers, but I wanted Harley to be gay anyways. I think it adds an interesting element to the backstory I'm trying to paint for him in Rose Hill, as well as the story I'm telling now.
> 
> Mostly though I just think it's funny if Peter worries about Harley having a crush on MJ despite her decidedly not being his "type." It's also important for a few other plot points I wanted to include, but you'll have to wait and see for those. Give Marvel gay characters!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please leave comments with your thoughts down below!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! It's past exam season (part 1 anyway) and I'm about to go on spring break, so I'll have a lot more free time to write. I hope you all enjoy, and that the wait wasn't too bad. I've been wanting to write this chapter since I had the idea for this series, and some of the things that come after are what I'm most excited about. And I think this chapter brings what a lot of you have been waiting for.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts down below!

Since his impromptu encounter with Spider-Man, Harley had been doing his research. A _lot_ of research, actually.

Apparently, the superhero— or vigilante, according to some, though Harley was inclined to disagree —had only come into the limelight the previous year. Very little was known about him, and the mystery surrounding his identity had become the source of many speculating articles, though the general consensus from reports of people saved by Spider-Man seemed to be that he was young, possibly still even in college. Harley had seen several YouTube videos of the earliest crimes the hero had stopped, in which he wore what basically amounted to regular clothes and a mask, though he’d kept the red and blue gimmick.

Obviously the updated suit had been noticed, but it seemed that the press didn’t know a lot of what Harley knew, particularly about Spider-Man’s connection with Tony— no one knew that Tony had made the suit, and it seemed people didn’t know that they’d originally met when Tony had brought Spider-Man to the fight against Captain America. Though Harley supposed the world at large didn’t know about _that_ whole incident much to begin with; Tony had told him about that himself when Harley had wondered aloud why none of the other superheroes were around.

To the public, the extent of Spider-Man’s relationship with Iron Man was the ferry they’d worked together to save. From witness reports, however, it seemed Iron Man had been the one to do the actual saving. He hadn’t really worked with other heroes for any other occasion, at least so far.

Still, the mystery seemed to add to the appeal. Any superhero was sure to attract attention, especially in New York, and Spider-Man had certainly made a name for himself. True, he mostly resolved small crimes, but the way Harley saw it? _Someone_ had to help people when the universe as a whole wasn’t at stake, and if Earth’s mightiest heroes preferred to only get involved in issues of literally galactic proportions, Harley wasn’t opposed to Spider-Man lightening the load for law enforcement. And it didn’t seem like the citizens of New York were either, though a few negative opinions did come up with every Google search Harley conducted. People saying Spider-Man was making a mockery of the police, that he was a menace and a danger because nobody knew his true identity, that he should sign the Accords, et cetera, et cetera.

After meeting Spider-Man, Harley disagreed entirely, and he knew Tony did, too. Spider-Man had the potential to help a lot of people.

“Is there something on your phone that’s more interesting than _Hamlet_ , Mr. Keener?”

Harley’s head snapped up, and he made direct eye contact with his teacher. She was glaring at him, hands on her hips. _Yes,_ Harley thought, but decided it would be in his best interests to say something else. “Sorry, ma’am.” He shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, not bothering to close the page he’d been scrolling through; a report of one of Spider-Man’s latest exploits, taking down three muggers the previous week. He fixed his eyes on the book in front of him— the thing he was _supposed_ to be reading —so he could avoid her scowl, and the attention her words had attracted from the rest of the class.

Harley flipped pages at random until the bell rang. He’d catch up later tonight, but he refused to read and understand Shakespeare before 8 a.m., no matter _how_ nerdy the school he went to was.

The second he was out of class and in the hall, Harley reopened the article, skimming it on his way to second period. He frowned as he read the details— apparently the men had all been armed, and Spider-Man had seemed “a little worse for wear” when the authorities arrived, whatever that meant; reportedly holding his chest as if in pain. This was before Harley had ran into him, so he knew the superhero was fine, obviously, but… still. If it were true that Spider-Man was only a little older than Harley, then it was pretty crazy to think about him fighting off guys with guns, even if Harley knew he was plenty capable. Besides, he’d _met_ Spider-Man now, so it was the same as when he saw news articles about Iron Man.

No matter how many times he assured himself that Tony could handle himself out there, that he was a force to be reckoned with, it was still a little scary.

Harley’s phone buzzed, a notification appearing at the top of his screen from Tony himself. _Speak of the devil_ , he thought, but his amusement disappeared as soon as he actually read the message.

**Bastard Mechanic:** Hey, when you see Peter today could you let him know to give me a call? He isn’t answering his phone.

Harley frowned. Even if Tony hadn’t said anything about it, the worry was clear, and Harley couldn’t help but be a little concerned himself. Peter always picked up when Tony called, the man had told Harley so several times. Was something wrong?

Was Peter injured again?

**Too Tall** **:** yeah sure

Harley figured he could just let Peter know in Bio, as it was his next class, and they had it together. But he never made it that far.

“Hey, Penis Parker!”

Harley stopped one step into the doorway of their class and, upon seeing that Peter wasn’t already in the room like usual, whirled around. Had he just heard right?

He followed the stares of several other students who had apparently turned to look and discovered Peter himself standing with his back pressed to a wall of lockers, expression guarded. In front of him stood another boy, one Harley recognized from seeing him around, though couldn’t recall in which class. He hadn’t made much of an impression, apart from talking far too much. Seemed like a bit of a dick, but so did a lot of other people.

But with the way he was grinning at Peter, a wide smile and mean eyes… Harley started to dislike him instantly.

“Flash,” Peter began, sounding tired. “Can we not do this right now? I have to get to class.”

_Flash._ Why did that name sound familiar? Harley knew he hadn’t heard it in class, so it was most likely a nickname, like MJ.

Oh, that’s right. MJ had mentioned something about this guy, Flash, and Peter giving people far too many second chances.

Harley’s jaw clenched, his head spinning with questions. _“Can we not do this right now?_ ” Peter had asked. Do what, exactly? If MJ believed Peter would quickly forgive Harley for accidentally pushing him down a flight of stairs, then what was ‘Flash’ doing? Was it _worse_?

“Oh, relax, Penis, you can afford to miss a few minutes,” Flash said, taking a step closer to Peter, who couldn’t back away any further. “I was just wondering whether or not you’re coming to Decathlon today.”

Peter frowned, clearly not expecting this. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there. I don’t have to go to the—”

“The Stark Internship?” Flash interrupted. “Sorry, didn’t mean to steal your name drop there, Parker. I just figured I’d ask because I might have to miss practice today, and I was wondering if you could pick up the slack. I’ve got a date with the Scarlet Witch.”

Harley could tell from Peter’s irritated expression that this was decidedly not the first time a similar conversation had taken place, but all Peter said was, “I was _going_ to say I don’t have to go to the store. Not until this weekend, anyways.” He hesitated. “And if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable, Flash. No one even knows where the Scarlet Witch _is_.”

“You’re one to talk,” Flash snapped, his fake smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. “I don’t knowwhy anyone believes you about that fucking internship. It’s clearly complete bullshit. I bet Tony Stark doesn’t even know you exist.”

Peter sighed, long-suffering and bored. Harley had no idea why he wasn’t more pissed off. “I don’t know how many times you’re going to try and make me convince you, but I’m done. Believe what you want. I’m going to class.”

Peter made a move to walk around Flash, but he was stopped by Flash’s hand shoving him back into the lockers. Beyond wincing at the impact and the loud noise, Peter didn’t react. He didn’t even shove Flash’s hand away where it remained on his shoulder.

Everything clicked into place. Harley wasn’t stupid, after all; he hadn’t gotten into Midtown for nothing. And bullying was not exactly something he could call himself a stranger to.

Oh, _hell_ no. No, Peter didn’t deserve to get pushed around by this asshole. Harley wasn’t about to just stand by and let it happen like everyone else in the hallway with them.

He pushed several other bystanders out of his way, walking over to Peter and Flash with every intention of putting himself between them. If Flash wanted a fight, Harley would give him one.

Before he could get there, Peter’s gaze found Harley in the crowd. “Harley?” he asked, voice full of surprise. He didn’t look like he’d meant to say that out loud.

Flash turned to see what Peter was staring at, confused, but strangely brightened when he saw who it was. “Hey, you’re the new kid, right?” Flash asked, grinning again. “Harley Keener. I heard about you. Is it true you pushed Parker here down a flight of stairs?”

Harley opened his mouth, unsure what he was about to say. Probably something involving several curse words. But Flash continued before he could get a word in, stepping to the side.

“You wanna get a few hits in, or something?” he asked. “Peter’s a pushover, doesn’t even fight back. He’s too nice. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Hilarious,” Harley echoed, voice dangerous. He didn’t think that was funny. He didn’t think it was funny at all. He forced his attention away from Flash and turned to Peter to avoid doing something he’d regret. “Peter, Tony told me to get you. Wanted to talk on the phone. You can call him after Bio, but we should go.”

Peter looked unbelievably grateful just for that small gesture of intervention, and it made Harley’s blood boil. Did no one else stand up to Flash? Was _he_ the one Peter got his injuries from, his black eye from the previous week?

Flash glared daggers at the both of them as Peter pushed past him to stand beside Harley. “Not you, too,” he complained, throwing his hands in the air. “Am I supposed to believe that _you’ve_ also met Iron Man? There’s no way in hell he’d ever talk to rejects like you!”

Harley froze. It was far too similar to things the kids in Rose Hill used to say to him, when he’d tried to tell them what had happened. They didn’t believe that a _nobody_ like Harley could’ve possibly met Tony Stark, the Iron Man, the superhero, the _avenger_. He’d been so proud of how he’d helped someone so amazing… and they had just laughed in his face.

But Peter didn’t have to deal with it. Peter had _proof_. Harley had seen the endless pictures of Tony and Peter together himself, and he could’ve showed them to the less than kind kids at his school whenever he wanted. Why _hadn’t_ he?

“Come on, Harley,” Peter muttered, trying to pull him towards their classroom. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go, like you said.”

_Not worth it._ Harley frowned. Peter was too noble, then, to brag or rub it in Flash’s face that he was wrong, that he _did_ know Tony Stark, and very well for that matter. Maybe he didn’t want to attract attention to Tony by talking about how much time he spent with him, or draw more attention to himself. But Harley found he didn’t care. Not if Peter was getting pushed around like that constantly. Not if he’d wind up with another damn black eye. Harley wasn’t about to stand by and let this happen.

Hell, Harley had some proof of his own, now. And he wasn’t too noble to show it to Flash at all. He deserved to be knocked down a peg, or several.

Harley whirled around on his heel before he could think better of it, shrugging off Peter’s hand. He strode directly up to Flash until he was standing right in front of him, looking down at him with what he hoped was a threatening scowl. Harley took his cell phone out of his pocket, turned it on, and showed the lock-screen to Flash. He watched the other’s expression as he took it in.

Harley knew what the picture was, obviously. He’d made it his wallpaper right after it’d been taken. A picture in front of the Compound— Harley, looking embarrassed with his hands in his pockets and head tilted just slightly down, standing right beside Tony, who was smiling brightly and pointing as if to say ‘Look who’s finally here!’ Tony had insisted they take it the day Harley moved in.

“I live with him, asshole,” Harley said through gritted teeth. He probably shouldn’t have felt as satisfied as he did with the shocked expression on Flash’s face, but he didn’t care. “And yeah, Peter has an internship with Stark Industries. He works individually with Tony every week. So shut the fuck up about it.” He glanced back at Peter, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Come on.”

Flash, when Harley looked at him again, had his face screwed up in anger. _This_ Harley could call hilarious. He apparently didn’t need to much time to collect himself, though, because he was already opening his mouth to say something annoying again. Harley couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than amused. What, was Flash going to call it photoshop? He knew he’d been proved wrong, he had no ground to stand on. Harley pocketed his phone with a smirk.

But then, Flash spoke. “Are your parents dead too, then? Is that why Stark took you in?”

The smile dropped off of Harley’s face. His mind went blank, blood rushing in his ears. It was all he could to do to turn and look at Peter again, whose face had gone pale. He opened his mouth, then closed it, at a complete loss for words.

And Harley _seethed._

“What the fuck,” he began, slowly. “Did you just say?”

Flash laughed. “Did he not tell you that?” he asked, then fixed his gaze on Peter. “I bet that’s the only reason you got the internship, huh, Parker? Mr. Stark fell for your little sob story routine just like everyone else does. I mean, there’s no way you’re _paying_ for this fancy internship, right? Did you write an essay about your dead mommy and daddy and win some kind of contest?”

Harley was shaking. Actually _trembling_ with rage. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Peter remained silent, too, except his was a horrified sort of quiet.

Harley didn’t ever think he’d hated anyone as much as he hated Flash, right then, except for his father. And dear old dad wasn’t exactly a low bar in terms of being the worst.

“I mean,” Flash continued, “You got the internship last year, a little bit after your Uncle died, right? How long did you wait after you watched him bleed out to write to Mr. Stark and ask for a job? Bet he didn’t even have time to rot before—”

Harley couldn’t stand it any longer; not the words flowing like poison from Flash’s mouth, not Peter’s expression, not the rage building in him beyond belief. With a wordless yell, Harley had gathered Flash’s shirt up in his left fist, and wasting no time, punched Flash square in the face with his right.

There was an audible crack.

He let go of him in the same moment, and Flash hit the ground, _hard._ He groaned, bringing his hands up to ghost over his face. “My nose!” Flash exclaimed, rolling on the floor like the pathetic child he was. “You broke my fucking nose!”

Harley spat on the floor at Flash’s feet. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, see more than a few teachers walking briskly down the hall towards him. He didn’t give a shit. All he cared about right then was Peter, who was staring at Flash on the floor, some color finally coming back into his face. He looked wordlessly between Flash and Harley for several seconds, then finally stopped and offered Harley the smallest of smiles.

“Nice right hook,” Peter said softly, and Harley _beamed._ It felt like a peace offering.

“You two are fucking insane,” Flash informed them from the ground, voice slightly distorted and nasally, no doubt due to his broken nose. “Freaks, both of you.”

Harley kicked Flash’s shin for good measure, but put no real force behind it. “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he said, but his voice had lost its fury, and he was still looking at Peter.

The teachers were upon them, then, and while most of them were trying to see if Flash was all right, one particularly angry looking woman who Harley didn’t recognize pointed a thin, manicured finger down the hall. “Principal’s office,” she hissed.

Harley shrugged and started on his way, unbothered though Peter looked mildly panicked. He’d made it through the first week, at least. Tony would probably be impressed.

Flash groaned again from behind him, muttering curses, and Harley’s smile widened. Tony would _definitely_ be impressed. _“Nice right hook,”_ Peter had said. How was Harley supposed to feel guilty, when the only person whose opinion mattered to him in this situation was suppressing laughter as Harley passed by?

Peter’s snort transformed into a cough under the watchful eyes of the teachers, but he made eye contact with Harley and winked while putting on a very convincing display. Harley held out his hand for a fist bump. Peter obliged, and shot a finger gun at him. Harley repeated the motion, and watched a grin appear on Peter’s face, too.

Harley didn’t care what Peter had said before. That was so, _so_ worth it.

* * *

Peter stood outside the door to the principal’s office, wringing his hands. Harley had been in there for a while, now, and Flash had left after fifteen minutes at most. While Peter had figured that Harley’s punishment would probably be much worse— Flash had only shoved him once today and said some hurtful things —he was still starting to worry at this point that Harley was going to be kicked out of school altogether. And then he’d be going back to Rose Hill, and Peter would never see him again.

He didn’t want that. Not when the two of them had finally started getting along.

Just when he was about to barge into the room and insist he be expelled instead, Harley walked out with his hands in his pockets, an air of amusement about him that seemed entirely out of place.

“What…what happened?” Peter asked, confused by Harley’s complete lack of concern. “Did they let you off the hook?”

“Just detention for a month. Twice a week,” Harley said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They know Flash’s comments were out of line, even if he’s not getting in anywhere near as much trouble.” Harley’s face darkened a little at that. “Besides, I don’t think they want to kick me out, not when they’ve seen Tony Stark’s name on my tuition bill.”

Peter frowned. “Well, I’m glad they’re not expelling you, but I’m still sorry about all this. You wouldn’t be getting punished if I hadn’t—”

“Hadn’t what?” Harley interrupted, voice angry. Peter knew it wasn’t directed at him. “You didn’t _do_ anything, and I told the principal as much when he said he was considering giving you detention, too. I don’t regret what I did, either. Flash deserved what he got, and if detention is all I get for punching him in the face, then I’d do it again. Gladly.”

“But…won’t Mr. Stark be mad? You’ve barely been here for over a week, and you’re already in detention.” _Because of me_ , Peter thought.

Harley rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is hardly the first time I’ve gotten into a fight at school, so Tony won’t exactly be surprised. He might even be impressed I’ve managed to last this long. I don’t think he’ll be too mad, especially after what Flash said to you. He’d probably give me a high-five, and just be upset he wasn’t here to teach that asshole a lesson himself.”

The idea of Mr. Stark punching Flash in the face made Peter snort, but his laughter died quickly once he realized the gravity of Harley’s words. “Wait— you can’t tell Mr. Stark.”

Harley raised his eyebrows. “The principal is probably giving him a call right now about the fact that I literally broke another kid’s nose. He told me he was going to right after I left his office. Call me crazy, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it a secret, Peter.”

“No, no, I mean… you can’t tell Mr. Stark about what Flash said to me,” Peter said. “He doesn’t know that Flash treats me like this, and he can’t find out.”

“So you want me to tell Tony that I broke a kid’s nose for no reason?” Harley asked, incredulous. “Why don’t you want Tony to know? He wouldn’t blame you either, you know that.”

“I know,” Peter mumbled. “But… he might insist on talking to Flash himself.”

“Well, maybe he should!” Harley said. “Flash deserves it! What he said to you today was really awful. No one deserves to be spoken to like that.”

“Mr. Stark doesn’t need to get involved, though,” Peter insisted. “Flash is… harmless, really. He’s just a selfish jerk who doesn’t know when to shut up. I can handle him.”

“Yeah, because that black eye looked really _harmless_ ,” Harley said, voice dangerous.

It took Peter a second to realize what Harley was referring to. When he did, he found he actually felt bad for Flash. The guy was an asshole, sure, but he’d never actually _punch_ _ed_ Peter. Pushed him around a little, sure, but Flash wouldn’t ever do anything that would get him in real trouble. Probably.

Harley probably wouldn’t have reacted as strongly if he knew what had really happened, but it wasn’t as if Peter could tell him _that_. Would Harley even believe it?

But at the same time…. wasn’t it a little cruel to let Harley continue to think that Flash was behind it? Peter didn’t want Harley to get in trouble for picking fights with Flash again.

Peter opened his mouth to say… _something_ , he didn’t know what, but Harley pressed on before he could.

“That stuff he said about your parents… that was really shitty,” Harley said, the edge going out of his voice. “Are you okay?”

Peter blew out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I mean, they died when I was real little, so. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Harley said quietly. He leaned against the wall next to Peter and glanced at him sideways. “How did they… you know, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Plane crash,” Peter said, too monotone. He’d had this conversation one too many times. “Freak accident. They were flying home from a couple’s getaway they’d been on, left me with my Aunt and Uncle. I would’ve been there, but I got a little sick just before, and they couldn’t get a refund on the tickets. I was six.”

“Shit,” Harley breathed, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, man.”

Peter shrugged. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago, and I don’t really remember them. Besides, my Aunt and Uncle love me… _loved_ me,” Peter corrected himself, with a small wince. It still felt wrong to use the past tense with Uncle Ben, even if it had been a year. “It’s just me and Aunt May now, but she’s the best.”

“Your uncle… died last year?” Harley asked tentatively, then seemed to realize what he’d said. “Sorry, Flash mentioned him, too. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s totally fine—”

“He did die last year, yeah,” Peter told him, voice soft. “But I… I can’t really talk about it, if that’s okay. It’s too painful to think about.”

Harley nodded in understanding even as his face twisted with anger again. “I can’t believe Flash would say something so _horrible_ , especially with it being so recent,” he said. “I know it sucks, but… just try to ignore him. Flash doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

“He sorta does, though,” Peter told him. “I mean, Mr. Stark probably didn’t decide to _hire_ me because of it, but he did find out about… about Uncle Ben when he met me. Maybe he felt bad for me?”

Harley was shaking his head before Peter had even finished the sentence. “No, listen, I’ve _seen_ you working in the lab, Tony hired you because you’re a genius,” Harley said. “I doubt your past is what swayed him. Mine certainly didn’t. Tony grew to like and trust me because I genuinely helped him, not because I had a ‘sob story.’ He didn’t seem phased by mine at all, and I was much younger than you. I guess it couldn’t have hurt, though, now that I think about it.”

“Yours?” Peter echoed, confused. Harley’s eyes went wide. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“I want to,” Harley interrupted, and put a light hand on Peter’s shoulder that slipped back to his side the next moment. “Um, I guess Tony’s made a habit of taking kids who lose father figures under his wing. My dad left us when I was… hey, six years old. Same age.” The smile that came across his face then was bitter, and wrong. Peter wanted to make Harley smile for real again.

“He just… left you?”

“Yep,” Harley popped the ‘p,’ and continued to stare at the floor. “He said he was going to get scratchers, and then didn’t come back for… well, ever. Just left me, my mom, and my little sister Cass behind. Sometimes I wonder what he’s doing now, and other times I think I never want to find out.” He kicked his foot against the ground. “Wherever he is, I hope he’s miserable. You probably think I’m a terrible person for that.”

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person at all,” Peter said, then continued to try and lighten the mood. “But hey, I didn’t know you had a sister! I’m an only child. What’s she like?”

Harley snorted. “Difficult. I love her to death, though, of course I do. Whenever she ends up coming to visit me, you should meet her.”

Peter grinned. _Progress!_ “I’d love to.”

Harley looked up quickly again at Peter’s expression, and cleared his throat. “You don’t have to. This—” he gestured at the air between them, waved the pink detention slip in his hand. “—doesn’t have to mean that we’re friends. Not if you don’t want it to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want it to?”

“I don’t like bullies,” Harley said, simply. “I probably would’ve done the same if Flash was saying that shit to any random stranger. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, not because of this and not because my— because Tony Stark is your boss.”

“You sound like Steve,” Peter laughed. “With the whole ‘not liking bullies’ thing.”

Harley tilted his head to the side. “Who’s Steve?”

_Shit. Fuck, go back._ “Uh, he… he was just this kid who moved,” Peter said. _Smooth._ “But… I don’t feel like I _owe_ you anything. If I do you a favor in the future, it's because _I_ wanted to. That’s what friends are for, right? Helping each other? Not a lot of people would do what you just did, and I think that makes you pretty cool. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but… if you ever want to hang out with Ned, MJ, and I at some point, just let me know. You’d be more than welcome.”

Harley’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. Not quite, but it was an improvement, so Peter decided to take it as a win. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Harley knew that Happy must’ve noticed his uncharacteristic silence on the ride back from school, but he didn’t comment on it. Maybe Tony had told him about the call from Midtown, and Happy had figured that Harley only needed one lecture.

He would’ve answered honestly if Happy had asked him, but Harley couldn’t be bothered to start a conversation himself. He was too lost in thought, mind still turning over everything that Peter had told him. Everything Peter had trusted him with.

Harley couldn’t understand it, really. How could one person go through so much and still be able to look on the bright side of things? How could he be optimistic when the world had let him down so many times by taking people he loved away from him?

Peter seemed to look at life through rose colored lenses, constantly looking at the silver linings, the bright sides, the glass half fulls, and Harley had wrongly assumed when he’d met him that it was because he lived a charmed life. But he didn’t. Peter’s luck was arguably worse than his.

Harley didn’t understand how, after being burned so many times, Peter had next to no walls up. Harley had been abandoned one too many times— countless friends in Rose Hill had left him in the dust once they figured out how much the majority hated him and, of course, his dad started that trend. But the people Peter had lost… he carried them with him, and just grew more determined not to lose anyone else. Was that why he’d been so persistent in befriending Harley?

Harley didn’t like letting people get close to him. He had his mom, Cass, and Tony came later, but they’d all proved countless times that they weren’t going anywhere. He didn’t want to chance letting anyone else in, because odds were that they’d just leave him behind.

But… Harley knew, deep down, that ship had already sailed when it came to Peter Parker. He’d opened up, he’d let Peter in, he _trusted_ him. Harley didn’t know how Peter had managed it. Only a little over a week had passed, and he’d pushed through Harley’s defenses almost effortlessly. He knew he was in too deep the second he saw Flash shove Peter into that locker, knew he’d stand up for Peter no matter what, because Peter had already done way more than he should have for him. Harley could only hope that Peter didn’t let him down.

Somehow, Harley doubted that he would.

The car stopped, and Harley belatedly realized that they’d reached the compound. He grabbed his backpack and pushed open the door without waiting for Happy to open it for him because, really, that was ridiculous. Harley could open a car door, for crying out loud. FRIDAY opened the compound doors for him, and Harley made a beeline for the stairs, hoping to avoid the lecture he knew for a _fact_ was coming.

Tony was sitting in a chair in Harley’s bedroom, reading glasses perched in his nose and eyes fixed on a book that he snapped shut the moment Harley entered. His gaze fixed on Harley. No such luck, apparently.

“So. You punched a kid at school today?”

Harley didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but Tony’s unreadable expression didn’t give him much to go on. He responded just as casually. “Yeah.”

Tony kept staring at him for another several seconds, then put his book and glasses on the nightstand beside him. “Are you gonna tell me _why_?”

“Didn’t the principal already tell you that?”

“The principal only said that you punched a student and broke his nose for insulting _another_ student, and that now you have detention twice a week for a month,” Tony said. “And I wanted to hear what actually happened from you.”

Harley hesitated. “I… You have to promise not to get involved. The other kid, the one Flash— that’s the kid I punched —was…I wouldn’t call it ‘insulting’, actually, but he doesn’t want you to get involved.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would this kid—”

“It’s Peter.”

That made Tony’s mouth snap shut, and he was quiet for several seconds. “What did… ‘Flash’ say? What happened?”

Harley shook his head. “Promise you won’t get involved.”

“I’m not promising that, not if it’s Peter. Tell me.”

Harley sighed, but he couldn’t exactly blame Tony, could he? Peter hadn’t wanted Harley to get involved, either, and he didn’t regret that. “Fine. I’m pretty sure this kid is the one who gave Peter a black eye.” He might as well just get it all out in the open.

The corners of Tony’s mouth twitched, but otherwise, to Harley’s confusion, his expression didn’t change. “Why do you think that?”

Tony’s muted reaction pissed Harley off. He wasn’t quite sure why. His hands had clenched into fists at his sides, his fingernails digging sharp crescents into his palms. “Because I walked over when I heard them talking. Flash was being really rude to Peter, insulting him about his internship with you. Then Flash shoved Peter into the lockers when he tried to leave.”

_That_ caught Tony’s attention, at least. He immediately sat up straighter in his seat. “Is Peter okay?”

Harley rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, but that Flash guy is a serious piece of work. I stepped in after that, and started going to class with Peter, but I wasn’t gonna get involved beyond telling Flash off, I swear. Peter wasn’t giving Flash proof of the internship, and so I did, because I thought that would get Flash to leave him alone, once he realized Peter wasn’t lying about it.”

Tony’s expression darkened, but Harley wasn’t finished.

“But then he brought up Peter’s parents,” he said, softly. “I… I didn’t know that they’d died? But Flash did, and he implied that the reason you hired Peter is because you felt bad for his ‘sob story,’ and… well, then he mentioned Peter’s uncle.”

Tony sucked in a breath. Harley was staring at the ground, not wanting to look at Tony’s expression now. He already knew what he would see.

“I just… Peter froze up, and I couldn’t just let Flash say those things and get away with it. Not when Peter was so upset,” Harley told him. “I didn’t really think, but he just wouldn’t _stop talking,_ and so I punched him.” He paused. “Do you…. Are you mad?”

“Furious,” Tony replied, and Harley’s eyes snapped up to meet him. He did look positively murderous. “But not at you. I could never be mad at you for standing up for a friend, least of all for _Peter._ I don’t know if I would’ve been able to stop myself from punching that kid, had I been there.”

Harley sat down on his bed, relieved. “Good,” he said, and meant it. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, honestly. It reminded me too much of the jerks I had to put up with in Rose Hill, and Peter doesn’t deserve that.”

Tony hummed, considering this. “Neither did you. You shouldn’t have been labeled a ‘problem child’ by teachers just for defending yourself. Though I think I would prefer not to get a call like this again, if it can be avoided.”

“Oh, come on,” Harley kicked at Tony’s leg, grinning. “You’re proud of me.”

“I am,” Tony admitted. “Both of you. I’m glad you’re getting along.”

Harley’s smile turned soft, fond. “Yeah, me too,” he said. “I think we’re really friends, now. He was telling me about what happened to his parents, and I told him about… about my dad. It’s weird. I didn’t think he liked me, at first, but now… I don’t know. Something feels different. Better.”

“You didn’t think he liked you?” Tony echoed, disbelief evident in his voice. “Harley, the kid likes _everyone_ , minus this Flash guy, apparently. Do you know how over the moon he was when he heard that you’d be coming to stay here? Going to his school?”

“Well, I can see that _now_ ,” Harley grumbled, earning a laugh from Tony.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve warmed up to him, too. It’s about time,” Tony said, and laughed again when Harley felt heat rush to his face. “I knew you two would get along like a house on fire. That’s a perfect analogy, too, because I’m sure the two of you will cause no small amount of disasters when you put your heads together.”

“You wound me,” Harley said, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m perfectly capable of causing disasters on my own, thank you _very_ much.”

Tony laughed. “That you are,” he agreed, then stood to leave the room. “I think I’m going to call Peter, just to check up on—”

“Wait,” Harley interrupted, reaching for Tony’s arm. He stopped halfway when Tony turned around, and dropped the hand back to his side. “Flash, he… Peter told me what happened to his parents, and he didn’t mention anything about his Uncle. But Flash said… he asked ‘how long did you wait after you watched him bleed out to ask Tony Stark for a job?’”

The amusement dropped off of Tony’s face, expression darkening again. He opened his mouth, but Harley continued before he could.

“Did… was Peter there, when his uncle died?”

Tony sighed, and sank back down into his seat. “Yes,” he said, voice soft. “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. It’s difficult for him to talk about, and I don’t blame him.”

“What happened?”

“It’s not really my business to say,” Tony told him. “And I only know the details because I looked into it, since Peter wouldn’t tell me, so don’t bring it up to him. But… it was a few months before I met him. His uncle was shot. It wasn’t Peter’s fault, but he still blames himself for it.”

“That’s… that’s terrible,” Harley whispered. He couldn’t imagine it; having to watch someone he loved die. He’d been afraid on countless occasions— especially with Ultron, when the end of the world was at hand for the second time, and this time it was personal because he _knew_ one of Earth's mightiest heroes —that he’d lose Tony. He had watched the news religiously any time the Avengers fought in New York and feared every time Iron Man took a particularly big hit, but that didn’t come _close_ to what Peter had already lived through. For the millionth time that day, Harley wondered how Peter could be so… so _good_ after suffering so much. He deserved better.

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, once again pushing himself to his feet. “I’m gonna call him, like I said, to make sure he’s doing okay. If I know Peter, he’ll be getting it into his head that your detentions are his fault.”

Harley’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “He did apologize the second I got out of the principal’s office.”

“See? The kid’s guilt complex is bigger than mine,” Tony said. “FRIDAY, call 'Problem Child.' You can just put him on speaker in here.”

“Peter’s phone is currently turned off,” FRIDAY replied immediately. “Though you do have one missed text message from him.”

Tony was staring at the message on his own phone now, confusion written all over his face. “It’s just an address,” he mumbled, clicking on the location. “I don’t understand, what…”

His eyes widened, and the next moment he was _moving,_ out the door and calling out orders to FRIDAY as he went. By the time Harley followed, Tony was already in one of his suits.

“What’s going on?” Harley demanded. “What’s wrong? _Where’s Peter?!”_

“The address, it’s a bank,” Tony said. His faceplate was down, but Harley could hear the panic in his voice. “And right now? It’s being robbed. It’s a hostage situation, and Peter’s in there. I have to go, now.”

And Harley's mind just _blanked_ , his blood freezing in his veins, turning everything cold. Because no, right? No way. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not to _Peter_. He didn’t deserve anything that he’d had to go through, and he didn’t deserve _this_. This kid's luck really was terrible.

Harley wouldn’t let him get hurt.

“Let me come,” he said, without thinking anything more than that.

Tony shook his head. “No chance in hell, Harls. I’m not putting you in harms way, too. I don’t know what exactly is going on over there, you could get hurt, or worse—”

“If it’s on the news, it means the police are already there. Plus reporters. I won’t be allowed inside,” Harley argued. “He’s my _friend_. We just became friends, I don’t want to lose him. Let me go, please. I promise I’ll stay out of the way.”

"I... Happy's out," Tony said. "You don't have your driver's license yet, kid, and I can't very well carry you over there."

"I have my permit," Harley argued. He'd turned sixteen in the fall, but not quite enough time had passed for him to be allowed to take the test. Still, he'd been eager to learn, eager for a way to leave Rose Hill. "I'm a good driver, though. Promise."

"I'm sorry," Tony told him. His faceplate went up, his gaze sympathetic. "It's too dangerous for you, kid. I swear I'll bring Peter right back here once I get him out, but I really have to go. I can't waste any time." Back down the faceplate came, and then he rushed towards the door, taking off the second he was outside.

And just like that, Iron Man was gone.

Harley stood there staring after him for a moment, at a loss for what to do. All he knew was that he couldn't sit by and do _nothing,_ not when Peter was in trouble, when he could be hurt. Peter's voice echoed in his head. _"That's what friends are for, right? Helping each other?"_

Harley's eyes fell on Tony's ring of keys, sitting on the table by the door.

Just sitting there. Like they were asking Harley to take them.

Well. Tony was a billionaire, he probably wouldn't mind if one of his too many cars got a little bit banged up. Right?

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Harley muttered under his breath. "This is crazy. I must be _crazy_." But he was over there in a moment anyway, snatching the keys from the table and rushing down the stairs to the garage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for how long of a wait it's been, though I hope you all will understand in these extremely extenuating circumstances. The world is more than a little crazy right now, and as some of you may know I'm currently in college, so I left for spring break and by the time I got back I had a few days during which I was packing up everything in my dorm. I've since been unpacking, stressing over the switch to remote classes just in time for final season, and getting used to being home again.
> 
> I've been writing when I can, and though it won't technically be summer for me for a little longer, all sense of routine has gone out the window. That said, I worked really hard on this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! As always, I encourage leaving comments, because I always love hearing what you guys think. I hope all of you are staying safe and doing well!

At this point, Peter’s luck was so horrendously bad that it had become almost comical. _Almost_. It was hard to laugh at his own misfortune when said misfortune landed him in the same bank as a guy waving a gun around, clearly with no idea how to use it. Peter honestly wasn’t sure whether inexperienced criminals were more dangerous than the experts— this guy was practically a ticking time bomb. The safety was off already, his finger on the trigger.

All Peter’d had to tip him off before this guy burst through the door was his Spider Sense spiking, without enough warning for him to actually _do_ anything about it. Because now this guy had a gun in a bank full of innocent people. And Peter was just… _Peter_ , right now.

Peter reached into his pocket, and began typing out a brief message to Mr. Stark without removing his phone from his coat. A simple ‘help’ would suffice; Mr. Stark could track his location. Unfortunately, this guy wasn’t as stupid as Peter had hoped.

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, _NOW_!” he yelled, sweeping the gun in a wide arc. “PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, AND HOLD UP YOUR PHONES!” He made direct eye contact with Peter as he added that last bit, and Peter complied.

He wasn’t stupid either, after all. Advanced healing wouldn’t do much against a bullet between the eyes.

Peter’s phone was snatched from his hand and turned off, message to Mr. Stark unsent. Peter knew Mr. Stark could check the last used location at any time, but he wouldn’t come help Peter if there wasn’t a _reason_ to.

Summarily, Peter was _screwed_.

He debated trying to take the guy down, but if the guy decided to fire he’d hit one of the other hostages even if Peter managed to dodge. Besides, Peter would also risk revealing his identity, or at least bringing suspicion.

But then the guy pointed the gun at the bank teller. A girl, not much older than Peter by the looks of her. She stared down the barrel with wide eyes, beginning to tremble.

The robber thrust a bag at her. “Start filling this with money,” he demanded.

“I… I’ll have to go into the vault,” she told him, her voice shaking as much as her hands that held the bag. “Give me just a minute. Please don’t… please don’t shoot anyone.” She backed away slowly towards the vault, eyes not leaving the weapon trained on her.

“I won’t have to if you just get me the money!”

Peter glanced over at the other employee standing behind the counter, a man who appeared to be older than the girl. His eyes were full of rage, but he didn’t say anything. While the shooter’s eyes were fixed on the girl heading into the vault, this guy slowly slid his hand down under the counter. Peter watched as he pressed a small button.

A _panic_ button. Peter knew a lot of banks and stores had them, and that meant that the police would be on their way shortly.

Peter looked back over at the robber. His finger was still on the trigger of the gun, which he kept pointing at the girl. She looked absolutely terrified, and he… he looked ready to shoot at any moment.

Peter slowly stood up, drawing the eyes of the robber to him immediately. He got a series of incredulous looks from people, but he only cared about catching this criminal’s attention. He didn’t _have_ to intervene as Spider-Man, all he had to do was stall in order to buy enough time for the police to show up. And make sure that the guy with the gun didn’t lose his cool and shoot anyone.

He could do that just as himself, couldn’t he?

The robber had turned, his gun now pointed at Peter. Strangely, this was somehow better. “Get on the ground,” the man said through gritted teeth. “Unless you want to get shot.”

“You don’t want to shoot anybody,” Peter said, doing his best to sound convincing and keep his voice calm.

“Oh, I don’t?” the guy asked, taking a step closer to Peter with the gun still firmly trained on him. “What gave you that idea, kid?”

“You don’t seem like you’ve done this before,” Peter continued _._ “And you just want the money, right? You don’t have to hurt anyone, and you don’t _want_ to, right? So, put the gun away.”

The robber’s expression darkened. “You don’t know shit about me, kid,” he spat. “So stop running your mouth, acting like you do.”

Peter bristled. “I know you’ve never used a gun before, or you wouldn’t be waving it around like that. I also know you’ve never robbed a bank before, because you’re not wearing a mask. Any one of us here could ID you to the authorities.” The guy paused, looking stricken. But then his expression shuttered once more. “If you’re trying to make a case for why I shouldn’t shoot anyone in this bank, you’re doing a pretty poor job,” the guy snapped. “None of you can identify me if you’re all _dead_.” He took another step towards Peter.

There were scattered gasps and other expressions of fear around the bank. Peter refused to let himself worry; as long as the weapon was pointing at him, he could handle this. He ignored every instinct screaming at him and took a step closer, as well.

That, the robber clearly hadn’t been expecting.

“You’re going to kill all of us?” Peter asked, letting disbelief seep into his voice. “Ambitious for someone who’s never robbed a bank before. But you do realize that if you kill a dozen people, maybe more, the police aren’t going to stop looking for you, right? That’s a much more serious crime, and a way worse sentence. You don’t want that, right? All you wanted was some cash.”

The hand that held the guy’s gun shook, just slightly, but Peter noticed it. “I...” he began, then shook his head as if to clear it, the words dying on his lips.

“You’re making a mistake,” Peter said softly, raising his hands in the air as he took another step towards the man. “Nobody has to get hurt, not us, and not you. Just put the weapon down.”

The man hesitated, but just as he started to lower the weapon to his side, sirens could be heard outside. Peter glanced out the window to see that there were already several police cars parked outside the bank.

Over a megaphone, someone outside spoke up. “Police!” they announced, somewhat redundantly. “Drop your weapon and come out of the building with your hands in the air!”

And just like that, his entire demeanor switched back to what it had been only moments before.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” he demanded, pointing his gun quickly at different points in the room once more. “DID ONE OF YOU CALL THE _POLICE_?”

No one answered, this. Obviously. Even Peter wasn’t that stupid.

But then, to Peter’s horror, he turned the weapon back at the bank teller. She gasped, holding the bag that was now full of cash close to her chest, as if it could protect her from the bullet.

“WAS IT YOU?!” the robber demanded, clearly livid. “I BET YOU CALLED THEM, DIDN’T YOU, YOU—”

The other bank employee pushed himself in front of the girl holding the bag, then, and opened his mouth, presumably to confess to pushing the panic button.

Well, Peter wasn’t about to let _either_ of them get shot, thank you very much, so he simply spoke up again.

“I-I did, I called them,” Peter said, and both of the employees stared at him in horror as the guy whirled on him. He kept his hands in the air. “I, uh, dialed 911 a little bit before you confiscated everyone’s phones. They must have got my location, or something.”

The guy’s expression now could only be described as _furious._ “You called the police?” the guy echoed, voice dangerous. “So, what was all that talk then? Just stalling for time?”

_A little bit, but…_ “I meant what I said,” Peter told him. “There’s no chance you’re getting away now, they have the whole bank surrounded. You don’t need to hurt anyone, just surrender.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the guy said. He lifted the gun from Peter’s chest to point it directly at his forehead, and a breath caught in Peter’s throat. “Since you decided to play the hero, I think I’m going to return the favor with a bullet in your brain.”

Peter blanched. “Wait, just _wait,_ you don’t want to do this, you… you can’t, _please_ , just think about what you’re—”

At that exact moment Iron Man flew through a window on the other side of the bank, and the robber immediately turned his weapon on the superhero.

It was over in seconds.

If the guy had been smart, he’d have kept his weapon on Peter, and held him as a hostage. As things stood, he was unconscious on the ground before Peter could blink, the one bullet he managed to fire not even denting the armor.

Peter nearly sagged to the floor in relief, but two metal-clad arms were supporting him before he could. He glanced up to see the Iron Man faceplate lifting to reveal… oh.

Mr. Stark. In person.

Not what he expected, if he was being honest.

“You’re okay?!” he demanded, holding Peter at arm’s length and searching his eyes. “You’re not hurt?”

Peter shook his head dumbly, still in a bit of shock. No, he wasn’t hurt. There wasn’t a scratch on him, in fact, but this… that had been a close one. Closer than pretty much anything that had happened since the Vulture.

Tony didn’t seem to buy it, stepping back to scan Peter for any signs of injury.

Peter waved him off. “Seriously, Mr. Stark. I’m fine, I promise. He didn’t shoot anyone, except… well, except you, I guess. Are you okay?”

Tony stared at him incredulously. “Am I—” He cut himself off. Pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. “I’m great, kid. Peachy. Except that you almost gave me a heart attack, but what else is new?”

Peter smiled, somewhat sheepishly. “How did you know I was here?”

Tony sighed. “FRIDAY,” he said. “What else? I was trying to call you, she informed me that you tried to send me a text message from this location before your phone was shut off. By that time the bank teller had already pressed the panic button, so FRIDAY also had intel that the police were working on setting up a perimeter. After hearing that, I headed straight here.” A heavy pause “Peter, what were you _thinking_?”

“What was _I_ thinking?” Peter echoed. Unbelievable. “I didn’t do anything! Not this time, anyway. I was just trying to cash a check for Aunt May, since she’s got a late shift tonight. And suddenly this guy comes in with a gun! It’s not my fault I have terrible luck, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s not what I meant. You were antagonizing him, Peter, making him focus his attention on you. That’s the number one thing you _shouldn’t_ do during a hostage situation! You could’ve been hurt, or worse!”

“Well, what was I supposed to then?” Peter asked. “I wasn’t about to just stand by and let him hurt any of these innocent people!”

“You’re supposed to wait for help to come! You knew the police were on their way!”

“Exactly, so I just had to stall until—”

“It is _not_ your responsibility to—”

“ _Yes_ , it _is_! I don’t understand why you—”

“If I may,” the employee who’d pressed the button stepped out from behind the counter, expression hesitant. The people in the bank who hadn’t already rushed outside were watching the exchange between Tony Stark and this random teenage boy like a tennis match. “Iron Man, uh, sir, if he hadn’t spoken up, I’d probably be dead. This kid is a hero.”

“I already know that,” Mr. Stark muttered, with another tired sigh. He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Come on, troublemaker. We’re going to have to give a report to the police.”

Peter nodded, letting Mr. Stark him out of the bank. “I still don’t get it. How’d you know I was drawing attention to myself? You couldn’t have used my phone, it was turned off.”

“I know you pretty much always have your suit with you,” Tony said, quiet enough that only the two of them would be able to hear. He gestured at Peter’s backpack. “So I activated the baby monitor protocol remotely to make sure you were okay.”

“You can _do_ that?!”

Mr. Stark ignored him. “I don’t know why I’m _surprised_ that you tried to focus all of the danger on yourself, but Christ, kid. You could’ve sent me into cardiac arrest in midair. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Peter shrugged. “No promises. I told you, I have the worst luck.”

“Yeah, you’re practically a magnet for danger, huh?”

“Well, it does sort of come with the job description.”

As they exited the bank, police officers rushed in after them to apprehend the attempted robber and make sure all the people in the bank had left and would be able to give reports on the situation. A flood of reporters descended on Tony Stark the second he was outside the doors, of course, cameras flashing and voices clamoring over each other to be heard.

Tony flashed his best publicity smile at them, and pointed at one at random.

“Mr. Stark, are all of the hostages all right?”

“Yes, I don’t believe there have been any physical injuries, though I expect all of those involved may be pretty shaken up by the whole ordeal.”

“Who’s the kid you brought out with you?” another asked, which made Tony’s expression harden just slightly. “A relative of yours, perhaps?”

“Peter’s an intern with Stark Industries, I got an alert from his phone, which was why I was able to arrive so quickly,” Tony told them, subtly pushing Peter further behind him and towards where the rest of the hostages were heading over to the police. “He’s just been through a traumatic experience, so I would appreciate it if none of you asked him any questions. Thanks.”

Peter took the hint and, grateful for the out, started heading over to the police to make his statement. He caught one more question as he turned away that stopped him in his tracks, however.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark! Can you be sure that this was a one man job, and that the suspect being taken into custody was the only person involved.”

Mr. Stark didn’t seem too bothered as he gave his answer, but Peter stopped listening after that. Because the idea was still fairly possible.

His Spider Sense was still faintly buzzing, signifying some danger that had yet to come. Peter couldn’t pinpoint the source, but he realized he wouldn’t be able to warn Tony, either. Iron Man had been completely surrounded by the reporters, which wasn’t at all surprising. The Earth’s mightiest heroes didn’t condescend to stop a bank robbery every day.

Peter didn’t want to just do nothing, and wait for the other shoe to drop. That had gotten him into deep shit enough times. So, instead of joining the other hostages to give his report, he discreetly wound his way around the building, searching for a corner in which he could change into his Spider-Man suit. He didn’t want to have to confront someone else as Peter Parker.

And it was probably nothing, anyway. His senses going haywire could easily be explained by the residual adrenaline he felt at having a gun pointed directly in his face. But he wasn’t about to take that chance.

He’d just do a quick patrol of the perimeter as Spider-Man, make sure no other shady activities were going down. Iron Man could handle the press and the police. Peter would handle this.

* * *

Harley, miraculously, didn’t crash the car on the way to the bank, but it was a close thing. A _lot_ of people were beeping at him, at first because he’d gone way too slow— afraid of totaling Tony Stark’s car —and then because of the opposite. All in all, the way over had been pretty interesting. But he hadn’t lied when he said he could drive, so at least that was something.

Thank god for Google Maps. And FRIDAY.

His parallel parking job down the street from the bank was heinous, to say the least, but Harley couldn’t bring himself to care as he caught sight of all the sirens and police officers milling about. Relief flooded his senses as he caught sight of Iron Man speaking with a bunch of reporters, and Harley honestly felt a bit silly about coming all the way here, now. Tony clearly had everything under control.

His eyes skimmed the crowd, landing finally on a group of people huddled together near one of the squad cars, all looking shaken up. They must’ve been the people inside the bank. Thankfully, everyone looked unharmed.

Everyone, not including Peter. Because, as Harley belatedly realized, _Peter wasn’t with them_.

Harley tried in vain to calm down. Tony wouldn’t just be standing there doing nothing if Peter was hurt. But that still didn’t explain why his friend was absolutely _nowhere_ , as if he’d just vanished from the crime scene. Maybe Tony had sent him home, or something?

Harley started forward, ready to demand answers, but was quickly stopped by a police officer.

“Sorry, son,” the man told Harley, who scowled at hearing the term. “We’re holding the perimeter until we’re sure there’s no other suspects involved, and have spoken with the hostages. You’re not allowed through.”

“But my _friend_ is… wait. Other suspect? You mean people could still be in danger?” Harley asked, trying to shove past the man again. “Let me _through_ , I have to make sure he’s—”

“Son, I’m going to have to ask you to remain calm. You can talk to your friend once he’s free to leave the scene,” the officer said. Harley continued to glare at him as he stormed away.

Peter could still be in danger, apparently. Harley wasn’t about to just sit around and wait for something bad to happen to him! He surveyed the scene again, hoping to catch sight of Peter, or at least something that he’d missed.

Farther down the street, much closer to the bank, Harley spotted another man standing outside of his car, and anxiously staring at the bank from behind the countless police officers. A family member of another hostage? If he was that close, he must’ve been here before the police showed up. Maybe he had seen what had happened! Maybe he had seen _Peter!_

“Hey! You!” Harley called, waving to the man, who jumped and turned to look in Harley’s direction. “Hey! Did you see what happened at the bank? Is anyone hurt?”

The man seemed startled to be spoken to, and Harley mentally kicked himself. Of course, this guy was still probably pretty spooked by everything. Harley did his best to look non-threatening.

He looked Harley up and down with wide eyes. “They got him,” the man muttered eventually, and Harley felt some of his fear dissolve. That was _something_ , at least, that they’d managed to catch the guy behind it. But it still didn’t give him any answers regarding his biggest concern. _Where the hell was Peter?_

“That’s great,” Harley said, which made something odd twist in the man’s expression that he would’ve paid more attention to if he weren’t still scanning the surrounding area for any signs of his friend. “Um, do you know if everyone got out okay? Or if there were any other hostages, where they might be?”

The guy just continues to stare, and Harley would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting a _little_ impatient.

“Is whoever _you_ were picking up okay…?” Harley ventured to ask, then regretted it almost immediately at the look that crossed the other’s face.

“No,” he answered simply, voice sounding just the tiniest bit miserable.

Harley frowned Now he felt like a real jerk, and he was even _more_ scared for Peter, if there’d been apparent injuries. But… wait, there was an ambulance at the scene. No one was being loaded into it, though; it seemed to be there strictly as a precaution. So that meant there were no injuries, right? Even minor ones? If this guy knew someone who’d been hurt, though, and the police didn’t he should speak up.

Harley tore his eyes from the ambulance and turned back to the man to tell him as much only to see that he’d turned his back on Harley, as well, in favor of looking at the scene again himself. Which revealed the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

For several seconds, Harley just stared at it, utterly uncomprehending. Frozen.

Then all the guy’s words suddenly clicked into place, and the situation became abruptly more terrifying. Which Harley hadn’t even realized was possible.

Oh. _Shit_.

Just his luck, really.

It happened in a split second.

Harley, for all his blustering, had _not_ been this close to a gun since everything that had happened when he was twelve and found Tony Stark in his garage. And he had no idea what to do. Call out for the police? Attempt to take it from the guy? Turn and run the other way?

He ruled the last one out almost immediately. Harley wasn’t going anywhere before he knew Peter was okay.

But apparently, Harley wasn’t going anywhere _period._ He must’ve made some noise in that moment he stood still, or maybe the guy just felt Harley’s eyes on him. Whatever the case may be, the guy whirled around in the next moment and circled one arm around Harley’s chin while using the other to point the gun directly at his temple.

Okay. From bad situation to much, _much_ worse, but… Harley could work with this. Probably. He just had to stay calm.

It turned out to be pretty hard to stay calm when someone had a gun pointed _directly at his head._ Go figure. He could call out for help _now,_ but that wouldn’t really do him much good. There was no point in this guy taking a hostage if he didn’t want the police to notice him anyway.

But seriously, what was this guy _doing_?! No one had been paying any attention to him, and he could’ve gotten away completely scot-free! Why bother taking a hostage?

Lucky for Harley, the guy was apparently about to make his demands known to the police. He drew in a long breath, before yelling towards the cops nearest them. Oh, good. They’d already noticed the man’s gun. Harley had been momentarily too distracted by said gun to pay attention to anything else, really. But the guy’s shout got everyone else’s heads to turn towards them, as well.

“LET US BOTH GO,” the guy yelled, _directly_ into Harley’s ear. Jesus, he couldn’t catch a break, could he? “OR I WILL BLOW THIS KID’S HEAD OFF.”

Oh, fun. Not too creative, but it did the job well enough. All of the cops’ hands went right to their holsters. Harley’s gaze snapped right to Tony, who had turned away from the reporters and was staring back at him, pale as a sheet. Even from this distance, Harley could make out the range of expressions crossing his face— confusion, then surprise, then anger, then… fear.

Harley winced. He was going to get _such_ a lecture when they got back home.

_If._ If they got back home. If Harley managed to live through this.

Nope! No time for thoughts like that. Harley tried his best for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine!” he called out to the general public, but kept looking at Tony. “Seriously, I’m good!” He then turned— as much as his current situation would allow, anyway —to look at the guy holding the gun. He whistled. “Man, you’ve really done it now, huh? Pissing off Iron Man? Not the sharpest tool in the proverbial shed, are you?”

The man’s expression darkened, and he smacked Harley over the head with the back of the gun, which left him seeing stars. It took him a second to lift his head up again, the pain sharp enough he almost regretted his words. _Almost_.

If Harley couldn’t make light of this situation with some well placed snark, then he’d be freaking out. Or… freaking out _more,_ at any rate.

He could feel something dripping down the side of his head where the guy had struck him. Blood, presumably, unless his pistol doubled as a super soaker. Fantastic _._

_That_ did seem to jolt Tony out of his stupor, however. His expression hardened, and he took a step forward, only to stop when the gun returned to point at Harley’s temple. Tony held up his hands in a placating gesture, still appearing furious. “Let the kid go,” he ordered, voice dangerous. “You’re _not_ going to shoot him.”

“I won’t shoot him if you meet my demands,” the guy holding the gun insisted, and Harley noticed the hand holding the weapon shake. Just slightly. “Just let me and my brother _go,_ and you can have the stupid kid.”

Harley resented being called a kid almost as much as he resented being called stupid. He was sixteen, and also going to highly prestigious school, thank you _very_ much. He wanted to say as much, but the remaining ache made him think better of it.

“You know that’s not possible,” Tony said, and Harley could see he was fighting very hard to remain calm. “There are too many witnesses for us to release him. Your brother is going to be arrested, and now so are you. You won’t be able to drive away even if you keep the hostage.” The arm around Harley’s neck tightened, and he found himself struggling to take in air. Tony took another step forward. “If you let the kid go, police will be more likely to give you a lesser sentence. Come on, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

For a moment, it seemed the guy believed him. The hand with the gun was still unsteady. But then his finger moved on the trigger.

“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “No, I… I don’t believe you. If I’m not getting my family back, then NEITHER ARE YOU!”

Tony’s expression shifted to one of panic, and he started forward, but Harley knew he was too far away to get there in time. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for what he knew came next.

_BANG!_

Harley startled so badly at the gun going off right next to his ear that it took him several moments to register that he was not, in fact, dead.

He opened his eyes slowly, afraid to look at the guy behind him. His gaze had been focused on Tony before, and so he was the first thing Harley saw. His panic hadn’t gone away, exactly— he was clearly still scared —but now it was mixed with relief. Before Harley had the chance to ponder this confusing turn of events, a new voice spoke from beside him. A familiar one.

“Hey, Harley! Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?”

He turned to see Spider-Man, in all his blue and red spandex glory, holding the guy’s hand that had previously pointed the gun at Harley’s head. The superhero had twisted his wrist so that the weapon had fired towards the sky.

Huh. For a second, when he’d heard the Spider-Man’s voice, it sounded almost like…

Never mind. There were more important things to worry about. Namely, getting out of this situation. Harley tried to respond, to say something witty back, but the guy’s arm around his neck was still making it difficult to breathe.

In the next moment, however, Harley was shoved roughly to the ground as the guy focused his attention on trying to wrestle his gun back from Spider-Man. He coughed, catching his breath, and when he pushed himself to his feet, Tony was there, helping him up.

“Are you okay?” Tony demanded, eyes searching Harley’s face. He brought a hand up to the side of his head, ghosting where he’d been hit. “Harls, are you _okay_? How badly does it hurt?”

Harley shook his head, which was a mistake, evidently. He hissed at the pain it caused and brought a hand up to the injury, only for his fingers to come away with blood. “It’s… I’m fine,” he managed to get out. And he was, or at least he would be. “’M not concussed or anything, I’ll be fine. Just hurts like a bitch for right now.”

Tony nodded, but he still looked worried. “Come on, we gotta get that checked out. Let’s get you out of—”

_BANG!_

Another gunshot cut Tony off mid-sentence, and they both turned with wide eyes to where Spider-Man was wrestling the gunman on the ground. They watched as Spider-Man dealt a blow to his face, knocking him out cold. He then stood up unsteadily, and proceeded to collapse against the guy’s car. Both of his hands were pressed to his stomach, where a darker, more sinister shade of red was spreading slowly across the material of his suit.

“Damn,” Spider-Man breathed, looking down at. “That hurts… _way_ more than I thought it would.”

“What...” Harley understood what he was seeing, on some level, but it still didn’t make any _sense._ Spider-Man, who Harley had met and soared through the New York skies with, who had seemed so invincible when Harley met him, who Tony always talked about as if he hung the moon and the stars, had just been shot.

For _Harley._

Tony, who looked even paler than when the gun had been pointed at Harley’s head, now, was already moving. “Go get the car unlocked,” Tony ordered as he swept the wounded hero up in a bridal carry, doing his best not to jostle the injury. Spider-Man still made a small noise of pain at the movement, and Tony flinched.

Harley didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed ahead of Tony to the car and quickly unlocked the door, sliding into the driver’s seat to get it started. Tony was close behind, laying Spider-Man down in the backseat. He eyed Harley in the front, then shook his head.

“This won’t work,” he said. “You don’t have your license, and you hit your head. You can’t drive us back.” He hesitated, then; “I’ll drive. Get in back with him. Someone needs to put pressure on the wound.”

Harley blanched, unable to take his eyes off of all the blood already covering the Iron Man suit. “Tony, I don’t know how to… what if I hurt him _more_?”

Tony’s eyes softened. “You’ll do fine,” he promised, then helped Harley out of the front, taking his seat. Harley slid into the back, carefully lifting Spider-Man’s masked head and resting it back in his lap after he’d sat down. “He has a healing factor, so our main concern is the blood loss. But he should be okay as long as we get him back to the Compound, and we’re not too far away.”

“The Compound?” Harley echoed, confused. “Why aren’t we going to the hospital?”

Tony offered him an unimpressed glance in the rearview mirror as he sped down the road. “He’s a superhero, Harley. They can’t know his identity, and besides, he’s enhanced. They wouldn’t know how to treat him. There are doctors at the Compound for emergencies like this. I’m gonna give them a call so they know to prep for surgery.”

_Surgery_. Harley tuned out while Tony spoke to someone named Dr. Cho on the phone, turning his attention completely to Spider-Man, and keeping his hands pressed firmly to his wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow. It didn’t seem to be working too well.

“Stay with me, Spider-Man,” Harley ordered, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. “You have to take me web-slinging again, remember? You’re not getting out of that so easily.”

A small chuckle that sounded far too wet for Harley’s liking. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Spider-Man muttered. “Don’t worry about me, man. It’s like M— Tony said, I’ll be good as new in a few days. That head wound looks nasty, though.”

“I’m fine,” Harley insisted, with an eye roll. “Worry about yourself.”

“Nope,” Spider-Man said, popping the p. “It’s sorta my business to worry about everyone else.” The eyes of his suit narrowed at Harley. “Wait, hang on. What’re you even doing here?”

“Stole one of my cars,” Tony spoke up. “Completely ignored me after I specifically instructed him not to come to the bank.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Peas in a pod, the both of you.”

That got another laugh out of Spider-Man. “He’s right, that does sound like something I would do. And that’s not really a good thing. Do as I say, not as I do, right Iron Man?” Tony snorted. Harley didn’t really appreciate the teasing, but if it kept Spider-Man from passing out, he’d deal.

“What did you expect me to do?” Harley asked, with a huff. “I couldn’t just stay at the Compound, not with Peter—”

_Peter._

“Wait, _where’s Peter_?!” he demanded suddenly, his head snapping back to Tony, whose hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I didn’t see him, I… is he _okay_? Where—”

“He’s fine,” Spider-Man cut in, though his voice sounded… off. “Iron Man got him out. He was at the bank with his aunt, and they both went home once the suspect was apprehended. They seemed pretty shaken up, but uninjured.”

“Oh,” Harley relaxed back into the seat. “Okay. Thank _god_. I was so worried.” He grimaced. “Don’t… uh, don’t tell Peter I said that.”

Spider-Man had the audacity to laugh at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Harley wanted to argue further, because Spider-Man did _not_ sound serious about that, and Harley sure was— the last thing Harley needed for his and Peter’s new friendship was this situation complicating matters —but next thing he knew, the eyes of Spider-Man’s suit were sliding shut.

“Tony!” Harley cried, panic flooding his senses so quickly he could hardly breathe. “I think he just passed out!”

Tony cursed. “Hang on, kid,” he said, voice tight. “We’re almost there. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Harley nodded, doing his best to swallow his alarm as he turned to look back down at Spider-Man. _Please, please be okay,_ he thought desperately. He refused to be the reason for Spider-Man’s death. He _couldn’t_. He’d never forgive himself.

It wasn’t until much later that Harley had the presence of mind to wonder which of the two of them Tony had been talking to.

* * *

Peter woke up in the familiar infirmary of the compound, blinking at the bright lights above him, and winced as the memories of what had happened at the bank came back to him.

The armed robber. Peter trying and failing to talk him down. Iron Man flying in to save the day, and then the second gunman… and _Harley_ —

Peter shot up, then immediately winced at the pain the motion caused. He pressed a hand to his abdomen with a small groan. There was a lump of bandages still pressed there.

“Try not to move too much. Dr. Cho said your healing factor will probably take care of it completely in a day or so, since she got the bullet out, but that guy still did a number on you. And you lost a lot of blood.”

Peter turned to see Mr. Stark sitting in the chair beside his bed, looking both exhausted and unimpressed. Peter offered him a sheepish smile and opened his mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

“You scared the shit outta me, kid.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Peter replied with a huff.

“No? Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Tony said, crossing his arms. “What were you _thinking_?”

“What was I thinking?” Peter echoed, with a frown. “I was _thinking_ that Harley was about to be killed. If I hadn’t jumped in to stop that guy, he might have been.”

Tony sighed, sinking down further in his chair. “I… I know,” he said, voice unexpectedly quiet and soft. “I was terrified that I wouldn’t make it in time, and then you were there, and...” He took a deep breath. “Thanks, Pete. That’s what I should have led with. I’m proud of you for doing that, it was really brave of you.”

Peter blinked. “Wow. Okay. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Tony laughed, though it was a bit strained. “I told you, kid, we both gotta work on doing better. I don’t ever want to lose your trust again. I know you saved Harley’s life out there, and I cannot even begin to tell you how grateful I am for that. If I’d lost him...” He trailed off again. Another breath in. “In any case, you did good. I just wish you hadn’t endangered your own life like that.”

Peter shrugged, and offered him a sideways grin. “Yeah, well. Better me than Harley, right?”

All amusement immediately dropped off of Mr. Stark’s face. “ _What_?” His voice had gone quiet again, and he sounded absolutely _furious._ Peter resisted the urge to shiver. “ _What_ did you just say?”

“Uh, better me than Harley?” Peter said again, confused. “Because I have my healing factor? If one of us had to get shot— and _boy_ did the universe seem hellbent on accomplishing that today —I’m glad it was me.”

“Don’t—” Tony cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath. He stood from his chair and sat at the foot of Peter’s bed, staring at him intensely. “Don’t you _ever_ say anything like that again.”

“Mr. Stark, what—?”

“I don’t care if you’re enhanced,” Tony told him. “I don’t care if you heal faster than everyone else. I do not want to see _either_ of you get hurt, _ever._ You’re not allowed to think things like that. You may be a superhero, but you still lost a lot of blood. You’re not invincible. You could have _died_ today, Peter, and I can’t— I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost _either_ of you.”

Peter dared to put a hand on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, leaning forward a bit so he could reach him, ignoring the strain it put on his injury. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s my fault, I should’ve been able to take the guy no problem, but I was still all scrambled because of what happened inside the bank and I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Tony interrupted, softly. “Everyone’s okay now because of _you_ , kid. You were a superhero. You saved them. Just nearly sent me into cardiac arrest while doing it, is all.”

Peter grinned, something warm swelling in his chest. “So, everyone’s fine, then? Is Harley okay? How serious is his head injury?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course you’ve been worried about _that_ ,” he muttered. “Harley’s fine. Not concussed, thank goodness, he’ll just have to deal with some pretty bad headaches for a bit.”

“Good,” Peter said, relieved. “Can I see him?”

Tony stared at him for several seconds. “Kid, Harley saw _Spider-Man_ get shot. Not Peter Parker.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I don’t think he suspects anything, and I’d like to keep it that way for now,” Tony continued.

“Wait, what? You mean I can’t tell him my identity? But he lives with you, so he’s one of very few people that shouldn’t be in danger as a result! Plus, May and Ned already know.”

“They both found out by accident,” Tony pointed out. “And that’s part of it. I said for now because I don’t want Harley to find out like _this._ He’s already beside himself with guilt because he thinks it’s his fault that a superhero got shot. Imagine how upset he’d be if he found out that _Peter_ got shot protecting him.”

“It’s not his fault,” Peter said immediately.

Tony snorted. “Try telling him that. He’s incredibly stubborn. You’re very alike, that way.” He ruffled Peter’s hair. “I mean, do you know what he did when I told him he couldn’t come help you at the bank? He stole one of my _cars,_ and drove himself there.”

“I think I remember you saying something about that on the way back,” Peter said, suppressing a grin as he remembered the time he stole Flash’s car to chase after the Vulture. Maybe they really were alike, like Mr. Stark said. “But you’re right. I’d like to tell him, eventually, but this probably isn’t the best way to go about doing that. I mean, me and Harley sorta _just_ became friends. I don’t know if it’d be smart to just immediately be like, ‘oh, by the way, I’ve been lying to you since we met. Want to sit with me and Ned at lunch?’”

Tony patted Peter on the back. “That’s right. You should be the one to decide how he’ll find out, but I think it would mean a lot to him,” he said. “Harley’s tricky to get to open up, but when he decides that he cares about someone he’ll do anything for them. And I think Peter Parker finally broke down some of the walls he’s been keeping up.”

“I hope so,” Peter mumbled. “I… really want us to get along. Like you said, I think we’ve got more in common than we realized.”

“Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s going to become a huge Spider-Fan after you saved his life. Not that he wasn’t already. When did you take him _web-slinging_ , by the way? Because I don’t remember giving you permission for that.”

Peter cleverly avoided the question with one of his own. “What the hell is a ‘Spider-Fan’, Mr. Stark?”

“You know, a fan of Spider-Man. Isn’t that what all the people who watch the YouTube videos call it?”

“I have never heard _anyone_ say that, ever, Mr. Stark. I’m pretty sure you made it up just now.”

“Does that mean that Stark Industries can mass produce T-shirts with it, then? Because I’m pretty sure we could make a fortune if we cornered the market on Spider-Man merch—”

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark, _stop_ —”

Peter couldn’t help but grin, and Tony was smiling too. Everything was back to normal again.

* * *

Harley was pacing back and forth when Tony emerged from the medbay, wringing his hands in front of him anxiously. He froze mid-step and rushed over to meet him halfway, a dozen questions on his lips.

“He’s awake? Is he going to be okay?” Harley asked. He didn’t think he’d be able to calm down until he knew for sure.

“Relax, he’s going to be just fine, like I told you,” Tony said, though he sounded infinitely more sure of it than he had before. “And yes, he’s awake. He’s enhanced, remember, so he’ll heal relatively fast. Actually, one of the first things he wanted to know was if you were okay.”

“Me?” Harley wondered, confusion plain in the one word. “But… I’m fine. He’s the one who got… got _shot_ because of me.” It was hard to say, to think about. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t shown up to the crime scene, none of this would have happened at _all._

He couldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands. When they’d finally reached the compound, Harley’s hands had been absolutely _covered_ in Spider-Man’s blood.

He’d spent the better part of the time he was in surgery just trying to get it all off.

“Hey.” Tony grabbed his hands to stop their movement, holding them with his own and causing Harley to look up and meet his eyes. “I’m obviously not too thrilled about the fact that you went, but this _isn’t_ your fault. You couldn’t have known a second guy was armed, _none_ of us did, and you could’ve been badly hurt or _worse_. Don’t blame yourself. Spider-Man would say the same exact thing. In fact, he did, just now.”

“Can I—” Harley broke off, bit his lip, then continued. Softer. “Can I… see him?”

Tony hesitated, but ultimately shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harls, but you know we can’t do that. His identity has to remain a secret.”

“But _you_ know it,” Harley pointed out.

“ _Yeah_ , but that’s because I figured it out and decided to help him,” Tony said. “He’s not on the Accords, so _technically_ he’s a vigilante, operating outside of the law.” Harley began to protest, but Tony held up a hand to continue. “I don’t agree either, but those are the facts. Some news outlets have more positive opinions about Spider-Man than others, and there would doubtless be repercussions to revealing his identity. Legal and otherwise.”

Harley frowned. “Otherwise?”

“He may not be a ridiculously well known hero outside of New York, like the Avengers, but he is making a name for himself. And making _enemies_. He doesn’t have SHIELD or Asgard or millions of dollars backing him up, he’s on his own. If he were to reveal his identity to the public, he would have no way to stop the people that would inevitably go after him, or the people he cares about. Every person that knows is _also_ at risk.”

“So that’s a no, then?” Harley asked. He dropped unceremoniously into the nearest chair, doing his best not to look too disappointed.

A small smile crossed Tony’s face for the first time since leaving the medbay. “It’s a not yet,” he said. “Only a select few know about Spider-Man’s identity, a few people in his own life and some essential personnel here at the compound. Almost all of the other Avengers have yet to see him without his mask on.”

Well. That just made Harley want to find out _more_. “You said ‘essential personnel?’ Does Happy know? He must know, right? I bet I could get it out of him.”

“This is serious, Harls,” Tony said, voice gaining a strict edge to it.

“I _am_ being serious! He saved my life, and I want to thank him before our next chance encounter! What’s more serious than that?”

“If Spider-Man revealed his identity to every person he saved, then before long all of New York would know,” Tony pointed out. “He’s saved a lot of people. If it makes you feel any better, I can pass along the thank you.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Harley said, with a groan. He was silent for a few seconds before pressing on again. “You seriously can’t tell me _anything_ about him, though?”

Tony had brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the motion lifting his glasses onto the top of his head. “What sort of information did you have in mind, Harley? Want to know his favorite color?”

“It’s probably blue,” Harley mused, staring contemplatively at the ceiling. “No, like, how old is he? You seemed pretty worried when he got hurt, but the other Avengers get injured all the time, right? Plus, he sounded pretty young, even though he was obviously making his voice deeper on purpose.” _Plus, I want to know if my new sort of celebrity crush is way too old for me._

No answer. For a moment, Harley worried he’d added that last thought out loud.

Whatever. His life had been saved by a mysterious superhero, and Harley was only human. Sue him. Still, Tony didn’t exactly need to know that.

A glance Tony’s way revealed him staring at Harley, clearly surprised.

Harley smirked. “What? I’m smart enough to realize all _that_ from what happened today. I do go to that elite nerd school for a reason, you know. I actually expected he was probably a lot younger when I met him before.”

“Ah, yes, when we took you web-slinging in the city. When did _that_ happen, by the way? And why did neither of you see fit to mention it?”

Harley waved a dismissive hand at him. “That’s not important right now. When I was doing my research—”

“Oh, you’ve done _research,_ have you?”

“— _when I was doing my research_ , I saw that a lot of people online speculate that he’s a college student, because he isn’t spotted as much during the day on weekdays. Is that true? Is he a college student? That would be so _cool_.”

Tony opened his mouth, closed it again. Then, “I can’t answer that.”

“He _is_ then,” Harley decided, with a triumphant grin. “That’s amazing.”

Tony let out a heavy sigh, and sank into the seat beside him. “Listen, Harley, I… you’re right,” Tony said, finally. “Spider-Man is… he’s younger than any other hero I’ve worked with before. A _lot_ younger. I think that’s why I wanted to help him so much, why I designed that suit. He has a lot of potential, and I’m sure he’s going to do a lot of good in this world. He could be the best of us. But… he can be reckless. He never hesitates to put himself in the line of fire for someone else, as you saw today.” A pause. “I didn’t want him to get himself killed before he even really got started, you know?”

And just like that, Harley didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Tony, you don’t have to tell me all of this. I’m sorry I—”

“I wanted to tell you,” Tony interrupted. “I can’t tell you who he is, you’ll have to let him to decide to trust you with that himself. But… after today, all this has been on my mind. And I wanted to ask you something.” Tony took a deep breath. “What if I built you your own suit?”

“ _What_?”

“You can say no,” Tony said quickly. “But… I was so _scared_ today that I’d lose you. Both of you. And I kept thinking, if I had a suit that I could send remotely to your location in situations like that, that you could equip if needed, it would’ve solved everything. You’d be able to better defend yourself. I made Rhodey one, and Pepper, and… now you’re in my life, too. I wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you when I could’ve stopped it. It would only apply to emergencies, because I’m not letting you fight crime. You’re still a teenager. Maybe… maybe, when you’re older, if you wanted to follow in my footsteps that way, you could, but for now—”

“ _Yes,_ ” Harley breathed, head reeling with excitement. “Oh my god, yes, this is all I’ve wanted since I was _twelve,_ are you _kidding_? This would be an absolute dream come true, just like coming to live here! I could learn to fight bad guys, to hold my own, I could...” He thought of Peter, pushed roughly into a locker. He thought of Spider-Man, bleeding out in his lap. “…I could _save_ people.” _I could be just like you. Just like my hero._

Tony chuckled, patting him on the back. “I have no doubt you will. I think the superhero life would suit you.”

Harley’s eyes stung. “ _Thank you_.”

“No problem kid,” Tony said, smiling. “If anything, I should be thanking _you._ I already have a lot of design ideas, naturally, and you’re just giving me the excuse to finally work on them. I’ll probably get started tonight. I mean, it’s not like I’ll be able to sleep after today.”

“You and me both,” Harley muttered, then jolted as his phone buzzed. A text message.

**Unknown Number:** hey, man! mr stark gave me your number, it’s peter! i heard you went to the bank today??? i got out fine, but you’re ok right???

**Unknown Number:** i heard spider-man was there, which is sooo cool! im bummed i missed him :(

“Hey,” Harley said slowly, a thought having just occurred to him. “What if you made Peter a suit, too?”

Tony flinched violently, and turned to look at Harley like he’d gone absolutely crazy. Maybe he had. Tony didn’t say anything in response, though.

“I just mean… as long as you’re making them for the people you care about, it wouldn’t hurt. I know he’s important to you, I saw your face when you found out he was at the bank, and he could’ve easily gotten injured today, too,” Harley said, with a shrug that maybe looked a little too defensive. “Besides, if anyone’s good enough to be a superhero, it’s him. He’s, like, the dictionary definition of ‘pure of heart.’ Probably wouldn’t use his power to beat up the assholes at school, either, whereas I can make no promises there.”

Tony continued to stare at him, expression unreadable. “...I’ll think about it,” he said, something odd in his voice. Harley would’ve asked about it, but his phone buzzed again.

**Parker:** hey if you ghost me im telling mr stark

Harley suppressed a snort, and began to type out his reply. “You should,” Harley told Tony, absentmindedly. “Imagine us fighting crime _together._ ”

“Oh, I think I’d much rather _not_ imagine that. I’d go into cardiac arrest.”

“Whatever, old man,” Harley said, not looking up. He had to text Peter back. “We’d make a hell of a good team, and you know it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Another update! It looks like there are going to be two more chapters after this one instead of just the one, but that could change because all the scenes I have planned keep ending up longer than they're meant to be... I hope that's not a problem! Now that I'm done with classes I have WAY more time to write, so updates shouldn't take as long. With that said, I hope you really enjoy this one! I was super excited to write it. As always, feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments below! I always love reading and responding to what you guys think, and I'm really excited to see what reactions to this chapter will be, because things start to get a bit crazy here. You can also always come yell at me on tumblr too (starryeyed-char), I've started using it more again.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“Man, Parker, you are absolutely _gone_ for MJ. Aren’t you ever going to tell her? I think she might like you, too.”

“Really?” Peter asked, turning to stare at Harley, who looked _entirely_ too amused by his response. Peter mentally kicked himself. “I mean… uh—”

“Holy shit, you _are_!” Harley said, thrilled. “Even if I hadn’t known it before, you were obvious today, and this just confirms it.”

“You knew already? I told Ned not to—”

“Don’t worry, Ned didn’t betray your trust,” Harley told him. “I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t like me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Ned thinks you’re great. He wouldn’t have come today if he didn’t.” Peter had _finally_ managed to convince Harley to hang out in town with him, Ned, and MJ, and he wasn’t about to let Harley’s negative thoughts ruin all the progress they’d made. Both Ned and MJ really did seem to like him, even if Ned was just the tiniest bit on guard for another staircase incident. Now they were walking back to the compound for some time working in the lab, and Harley hadn’t stopped going on about Peter’s apparently obvious crush on MJ the whole way. “If he didn’t tell you, though, then who did?”

“Tony.”

“Mr. Stark _knows_?” Peter demanded, mortified. “Oh my god. This is the worst day of my life.”

“Once again, you’re hardly subtle,” Harley said. “I don’t think you could keep a secret to save your life.”

The dramatic irony of this was not, in fact, lost on Peter. “Right.”

“But yeah, Tony told me that you never shut up about her the second he found out that she and I were friends,” Harley continued. “Said something about not wanting a ‘teenage love triangle’ on his hands. As if there were any chance of _that_ happening.”

Peter frowned at his tone of voice. “MJ’s great,” he said, and ended up sounding a little more defensive than he meant to.

Harley stopped walking, raising an eyebrow at him in a way that was a lot like Mr. Stark. “Are you saying you _want_ me to be interested in your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my...I don’t know,” Peter said, shrugging. “I… kinda thought you might be? I mean, you warmed up to her a lot faster than you did with me.”

“That’s because I thought Tony was paying you to be my friend, or something.”

Peter couldn’t believe his ears. “ _Paying_ —”

“Shut up, I know how stupid that is _now_ ,” Harley said, the faintest of blushes rising to his face. “Just… I don’t know. You work for him, so I thought that maybe he’d insisted you talk to me. That you were only trying to be my friend because you had to. I’m… it takes me a while to believe people are telling me the truth, I guess. But now I actually know you, and I know you’re not like that.” Harley bumped Peter’s shoulder with his own, and Peter grinned. “With MJ, it was just clear from the start that she didn’t have any other reason to talk to me than because she wanted to. But no, I’m not interested in her the same way you are. She’s not really my… type.”

“Type?” Peter echoed, confused. “What do you—”

“I like guys, Peter,” Harley said, voice coming out in a rush like he’d said the words all in one breath. “I… MJ’s not my type. At all. I like guys.”

“Woah,” Peter said, before his brain caught up to his mouth. At Harley’s expression, he quickly continued. “Sorry, I mean, that’s fine! Great, even, it doesn’t bother me at all. Obviously. I mean, I grew up in New York, and I even went to pride last year with May and one of her friends from work, and I fully support you—”

“Peter,” Harley interrupted, voice fond. “You’re not going to offend me. Relax. This isn’t going to make you act all weird around me now, is it?”

Peter laughed and shook his head. “No, I guess I’m just surprised,” Peter confessed. “I never would have guessed.”

“Some of us _can_ be discreet, Parker,” Harley said. “But… we’re seriously cool, right? You’re not going to be one of those guys that’s like ‘oh, I’m fine with this, as long as you don’t like _me,_ ’ are you?”

“Yikes, no. I think as long as you don’t get a crush on _Flash_ , we’re good.”

Harley’s nose wrinkled in barely contained disgust. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Then of course we’re cool,” Peter said. “You’re… you’ve become one of my best friends, Harley. This isn’t going to change that. I’m just really happy that you decided to trust me.”

Harley’s expression faded into something unreadable, and before Peter could continue to make sure he hadn’t said something wrong, Harley hugged him.

It was over as soon as it started, with Harley pulling away only seconds after Peter brought his own arms up to return the embrace. Peter stood there, shocked, and Harley rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” Harley mumbled. “You’re… um, you’re one of my best friends, too.” He paused. Bit his lip. Then, “The only other people that know are my mom and sister, so… could you do me a favor and not bring this up with Tony?”

“Sure,” Peter agreed, trying to control the rush of gratitude he felt at being the third person Harley trusted with this information. He almost pressed, almost asked why Harley hadn’t told Mr. Stark yet, but reeled in his curiosity when he saw Harley still trying in vain to wipe away the tears before they formed. Cheering Harley up came first. “So. Do you have your eye on anyone specific yet?”

Harley groaned and continued walking, though Peter quickly followed after him. “Oh my god, how did I know you were going to ask that? You’re _insufferable_. I haven’t even been at Midtown long enough to get a crush on anyone.”

Peter tried for a puppy-dog face. Judging by the look on Harley’s face, it just might work. “Not _anyone_? What about famous people? You have to have at least one celebrity crush, right?”

“Celebrity crush?” Harley repeated, unimpressed. “Like who?”

Peter shrugged. “Mine’s Scarlet Witch.”

“You… that makes perfect sense, actually, you absolute _danger magnet_ ,” Harley said, rolling his eyes. But then he started to look thoughtful. “Do superheroes even count? They’re not really celebrities.”

Okay, _rude_. “They’re famous!” Peter insisted. “What about Thor? He’s really good looking, and super powerful, like, he’s a literal _god_ —”

“Sounds like _you_ might have a crush on Thor, dude.”

Peter considered this. “Listen, I may be straight, but it’s _Thor_ we’re talking about here. All bets are off.”

“Oh my _god_ —”

Peter’s spider sense came out of nowhere. It was so intense and abrupt that he didn’t think twice before acting, he just tackled Harley to the ground.

He surveyed their surroundings quickly, taking in as many details as possible. A dart had sailed over their heads just a few seconds after Peter had brought them both crashing down onto the sidewalk, and was now stuck in a wall of the nearest building. Two large, black vans had pulled up beside them on the road, somehow escaping Peter’s notice, and a man in the passenger seat of the first one was still pointing a gun at them. A gun that looked a little too high tech to have been sold in an ordinary store.

Peter recognized him, if only barely. He was one of the men who worked with the Vulture, Peter had seen the two of them making a deal. The very weapon he held now might’ve been part of it.

Peter grit his teeth. He’d been a fool not to expect this, after Toomes had learned his identity. For some reason he’d thought that because he’d saved the man’s life…

His mistake.

He looked down at Harley, whose expression was one of bewilderment. “You okay?”

Harley just kept staring up at him. “Fine,” he said, sounding vaguely winded, and possibly even impressed. Harley glanced at the dart that had just missed them. “Peter, _what_ —?”

“Good,” Peter cut him off, slowly getting to his feet. He helped Harley up, too, and pushed the other teen behind him, turning his full attention to the people that had them surrounded. “If you see a chance to run, take it. Otherwise just stay behind me, and don’t say anything.”

Harley’s expression— which had slowly turned to concern as he belatedly realized the threat —shuttered. “I’m not leaving you behind,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Peter ignored him, taking a half step forward. He could maybe have fought all of them off by himself, _maybe,_ but not if he had to worry about keeping those darts from hitting Harley, too. He hesitated, but… there really just wasn’t any way around it. He could always try and break out once he was alone, anyway. No harm in it, if they already knew he was Spider-Man. “I’ll go with you,” he said finally, fighting to keep his voice even. “I’m the one you want.”

“ _What_?!” Harley’s voice was near a shout, and he sounded furious. “The _hell_ you are! You’re not going anywhere with them, Peter, what the fuck are you _doing?_ ”

“Keeping you safe,” Peter hissed back, before turning once again to the threat. Several of the people had gotten out of the vans, and the man holding the dart gun was standing at the head of the group, a smug smile on his face. The expression was familiar, though Peter still couldn’t recall his name. “I won’t fight,” Peter continued, tuning out Harley’s continued protests. “You can take me. I’ll do whatever you say. Just leave him out of it.”

“No _,_ ” Harley said, beginning to sound scared. He shook his head, as if he could deny what was happening. “Peter, come on. _No_. I’m not going to let you just… just… let’s run, okay? Let’s just—”

“You can try that,” said the man Peter had recognized. “But I don’t think you’d get very far.” With no hesitation, he lifted up his dart gun again, and shot Peter in the calf. He could have tried to dodge, but… then it would’ve hit Harley.

Peter had no idea what to expect, but the sudden wave of drowsiness that came over him was… _not_ good. A tranquilizer was better than poison, he supposed, but he still sunk involuntarily to his knees, vision swimming. Peter fought for consciousness. He refused to let the darkness drag him under. Not until he knew Harley would be okay.

“ _Peter?!_ ” Harley knelt beside him, his hands hovering over Peter’s shoulders but not making contact. He sounded well past scared, now. He sounded _terrified._ When Peter couldn’t will himself to respond, still trying to collect his senses, Harley glared at the man standing above them. “WHAT DID YOU _DO_ TO HIM?!”

The man was completely unfazed. “A minor tranquilizer, he’ll be fine,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. But then… his expression turned thoughtful. “Although, a dose that strong should’ve put him right to sleep.”

He… sounded surprised by that. Why would he be surprised, if he knew Peter was Spider-Man? Unless…

“You son of a bitch,” Harley said, and _that_ finally turned the man’s expression sour. “You… you _psychopath_ , you—!”

“Harley,” Peter said, voice finally working, though it came out sounding slightly slurred. “Don’… don’ make ‘em mad. Jus’ let ‘em take me.”

Harley stared at Peter for several seconds, before shaking his head slowly. “No way in hell,” he said softly, then stood, this time putting himself between Peter and the others. Peter wanted to stop him, but his body wouldn’t do what it was supposed to. “If you want Peter, you’ll have to go through me.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Was sorta the plan anyway, kid,” he said. “I don’t think we’d get as much from Stark for half the set.”

The… the _set_? So they’d wanted both of them from the start? _Why_?

Then, it finally clicked. This guy had mentioned Mr. Stark… _that’s_ the reason he knew to target Peter and Harley, not because of Spider-Man. He’d been so _stupid_ not to think of it— the hostage situation at the bank the past week. Both he and Harley had made the news, and Tony had told the press they were his interns.

Peter wasn’t about to be captured because of his _powers_ , he was going to be held for ransom. They both were.

_This is a good thing_ , he tried to tell himself, though it certainly didn’t feel like it. _They don’t know about Spider-Man. I can use that to my advantage._ In fact, he may have been able to fight all of them if he’d known all along he actually had the element of surprise, but… it was too late for that now. He wouldn’t be fighting anyone any time soon, at least not with whatever had been in that dart still in his system.

Peter’s mind raced, trying to think of some way they could get out of this here and now, but his dulled mind kept coming up empty.

Harley didn’t seem content to wait for him, however. He lunged for the guy with the gun, trying to grab it from him. The act was admittedly brave, and also incredibly stupid. Peter reached out a hand to pull him back, but he didn’t have to. In the scuffle that followed Harley’s reckless decision, he was shot with one of the darts and, unlike Peter, immediately fell to the ground. Out cold.

Well. Peter didn’t really have any choice but to go with them _now_. He wasn’t about to try and escape when they were already moving Harley to the back of one of the vans.

Another dart was fired, this one hitting Peter square in the chest. And then the darkness consumed him.

* * *

Awareness started to creep in on Harley slowly, and then hit him all at once along with memories of what happened. His eyes snapped open to look frantically around. His immediate attempt to jump to his feet was thwarted by restraints on his wrists and ankles, keeping him firmly secured to his chair.

Though his surroundings didn’t answer many of the questions bouncing around in his head— judging by the state and temperature of the room, it was some sort of warehouse, which meant he could be anywhere, and none of the people from earlier were here now —they thankfully put to bed the most important one.

Harley didn’t have to look far before his eyes found Peter, and he was filled immediately with a strange mix of relief and dread. Relief, of course, because Harley could see him, and he didn’t appear to be badly hurt, though he was still knocked out. Dread because him being here at all, wherever here was, meant they weren’t out of the woods yet. Far from it, in fact.

“Peter,” Harley whispered, leaning closer to him. “Hey, Parker, come on. Wake up.” Peter had been tied to his own chair a few feet away, his head lolled on his shoulder. At Harley’s words, however, his expression twisted, and his eyes blinked open.

Huh.

If Harley actually took the time to think about that, it was… odd. They’d both been drugged with whatever those darts had in them, and so his words shouldn’t have done anything. And they shouldn’t have woken up at the same time, should they? Not if Peter was hit with… how many had they hit him with? One hadn’t been enough to take Peter down, but _Harley_ only remembered one dart hitting himself, and Peter was still awake then.

And call it a gut instinct, but for some reason… Harley got the feeling that Peter had been awake long before Harley was, that the bleary expression he wore as he looked around the room was all an act. Clearly the darts didn’t have as strong of an effect on him, but… why?

Weird.

“Harley?” Peter blinked in confusion, and _yep_ , he was definitely faking it. Maybe he had some sort of plan. Well, Harley wasn’t about to screw up... whatever Peter was doing, so he decided not to comment on it. “What… where are we?”

“Dunno, but it’s not anywhere good,” Harley told him. “They said something about Tony, right?” Harley’s head still felt a little fuzzy, but he remembered that much.

“Yeah, they’re probably going to hold us for ransom.” Peter sounded _far_ too relaxed for the sentence that had just come out of his mouth. “My guess is they saw us on the news from the bank robbery.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Hey, woah, don’t freak out,” Peter said quickly. “If they’re going to give us back to Mr. Stark, that probably means they won’t hurt us. They want to make a deal, not piss off Iron Man… even though they’re sort of already doing that. But still, if we do what they say, we should be fine. Do you hear me, Harley? We’ll be _fine._ ”

Peter was staring at him, big brown eyes wide with concern, as if Harley was going to have a panic attack or something. So what if his breath was growing a little short? He wasn’t a _baby._ Life threatening situations just… hadn’t really been the norm for him since he was twelve. But he could handle it. He wasn’t weak. He couldn’t afford to be weak. “I’m fine,” Harley said, not sure if he was trying more to convince Peter or himself. “I’m… wait, you said we should just do what they say? Why don’t we try to escape?”

Peter frowned. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t want us to put ourselves in more danger by trying to get ourselves out. We’re outnumbered here, and they have weapons. We don’t know where they are, or what we’ll find in the rest of the building. Our best bet is waiting for him.”

“Waiting for him to do what? For Tony to give them his money?” Harley demanded. “He shouldn’t have to do anything for these bastards, we can—!”

“I meant wait for Mr. Stark to get us out himself,” Peter said. “It’s like what he told me after I got out of the bank; the best thing to do is wait for help to come. I tried to defuse that situation myself, and I almost got shot. Or, well, I did get—”

Peter cut himself off, and Harley felt his blood run cold.

“What?” he asked, his voice coming out much quieter than he’d intended it. “Were you just about to say that you _did_ get shot, Parker?”

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly hesitating, but before he could speak his eyes widened and moved toward the door. “They’re coming,” Peter said, and Harley didn’t even have a second to wonder how he knew that before he continued. “I’ll do the talking. Don’t antagonize them, that’s another thing Mr. Stark said. If we just play along, you’ll get out of this okay, Harley. I promise.”

_What about you_?! Harley didn’t have time to voice his concerns before the door to the room slammed open.

Harley immediately recognized the man that walked in as the same guy who had shot them both, and he scowled. The guy only grinned in response and opened his mouth to address them.

Never one to beat around the bush, Harley spoke before he could. “Who are you?” he demanded, and was pleasantly surprised when it came out sounding livid rather than scared out of his mind. “What do you want from us?!”

“You mean Tony Stark doesn’t debrief his interns on criminals he helped to put away? I’m shocked. I never thought he’d pass up an opportunity to brag,” he said, and walked closer to them. Harley didn’t let his glare falter, though every step the guy took set him more on edge. “Mac Gargan. But I wouldn’t concern yourselves with what I want. I won’t have to hurt either of you if your boss follows our instructions.”

“I’ve heard your name before,” Peter said suddenly, and Harley turned to see that he was staring at Gargan with a surprising amount of anger. “You were arrested and _convicted_ in association with the illegal weapon dealings of Adrien Toomes, and a number of other crimes. Including homicide.”

Harley frowned. “This guy worked with the _Vulture_?” he asked, unable to contain his surprise. Tony had told him about Toomes and how big of a threat he’d turned out to be the past fall, and how Spider-Man had dealt with him. This was… _not_ good, to understate things.

“Ah, so you have heard of me!”

“You’re supposed to be in _jail_ ,” Peter snapped, and Harley was once again shocked by his anger. “How are you here?”

“How did I escape from prison with several devoted friends still armed with high tech weaponry on the outside?” Gargan asked. “I suppose it will forever remain a mystery.”

“Forget that,” Harley said. He really hated this guy. “Why kidnap _us_? Tony’s not the one who put you behind bars, he just helped Spider-Man do it.”

“Well, unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of knowing Spider-Man’s identity,” Gargan replied. “Unless, of course, the two of you would like to tell me. Then maybe we could negotiate an early release. Because you’re right, my primary grudge is with him.”

Harley glanced at Peter, who had visibly gone a little pale. “We don’t know who Spider-Man is,” he said, voice quiet.

“Even if we did, we wouldn’t tell _you_ ,” Harley added. He spoke much louder, which resulted in Gargan turning his attention towards him. Good.

Harley almost regretted this when Gargan abruptly closed the distance between the two of them in several quick paces. Almost, but not _quite_ , because if he was focusing on Harley then that meant Peter would be safe.

“You know, I saw the footage from the attempted armed robbery,” Gargan mused. “There’s a video on the news of Spider-Man taking a bullet for you. When I saw that, I thought for a moment that you might’ve done my job for me and gotten him killed. But of course he’s already been reported fighting crime since then.”

Gargan rested a hand on the top of his head, and it remained there even when Harley tried to jerk away from his touch, tugging on the ropes around his hands.Even when Peter made a noise of protest and moved in his own chair.

“He seemed awfully eager to save you,” Gargan continued, his voice going quieter. His fingers had formed a fist, and he yanked on Harley’s hair, forcing him to make eye contact. Harley failed to repress a shudder. “So, I have to wonder if you’re lying to me. You must see Spider-Man around a lot, since he’s friends with Stark. Maybe he’s friends with the two of you, as well. And you really don’t have any clue who he is?”

“Spider-Man is the kind of hero who would take a bullet for anyone,” Harley told him. “We. Don’t. Know. Get that through your thick skull and quit asking us.”

“And you didn’t answer _our_ question,” Peter said. His eyes were fixed on the hand that hadn’t left Harley’s hair. “If you want revenge on Spider-Man, what do you need _us_ for?”

“Spider-Man is practically untouchable,” Gargan replied. “I’ve told you, I don’t know who he is, but he showed up at the bank, too, and I can only assume he knows you. If he somehow finds out where you are and tries to rescue you and I get a chance to kill him, great. Same with Stark, though they might have a hard time doing so since we left your cell phones behind in the city.”

“You think _you_ can outwit Tony Stark?” Harley scoffed, incredulous. “Or out _fight_?”

Gargan frowned, and let go of him, a little rougher than necessary. “I don’t think I’ll have to. I may not know who Spider-Man is, and you two might not either, but I’d be willing to bet a lot of money that Tony Stark _does_. Luckily, he’s a billionaire. And I don’t think he would risk his precious interns’ safety over the identity of another superhero and, say, a few hundred thousand dollars. Do you?”

Understanding and horror dawned on Peter’s face. He’d gone pale again. “He wouldn’t,” he muttered. “So you… what, you just took us on a whim?”

“Correction, young man, I saw my chance and I decided to take it,” Gargan said. “Two birds with one stone. Revenge and profit, which are the two motives that fueled Toomes in the first place. All you kids have to do is sit tight and enjoy the show. I’m sure your boss will receive our message shortly.”

Harley shook his head in disgust. “You’re fucking insane,” he said. “You… you’re insane for doing this, and you’re absolutely _batshit_ if you think Tony’s going to sell out another superhero as a part of your sick little game.”

Gargan’s expression twisted into something ugly.

“Harley...” Peter was talking again, still looking scared out of his mind. “ _D_ _on’t_ antagonize him, he’s dangerous. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Harley, frankly, didn’t give a shit. “Spider-Man saved my _life,_ ” he continued. “I won’t help you hurt him, and neither will Tony. You’ve made a _big_ mistake.”

Gargan’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t really think you’re in a position to be making threats, kid.”

“It’s not a threat,” Harley said. “It’s just the truth. I bet Spider-Man _and_ Iron Man will both be here shortly to kick your ass, and I’ll _gladly_ watch that show.”

“ _Harley_.” Peter’s voice was almost pleading now, and Harley ignored him. “Please, just shut _up_.”

“I’d listen to your friend, kid, if you know what’s good for you.”

Harley laughed in Gargan’s face, relishing in the way the man grew more enraged. Harley knew he was being stupid, he just didn’t care. Gargan was saying he’d kill Spider-Man, and in that moment, Harley wanted to piss him off more than he cared about his own safety. “Or you’ll _what_? You can’t kill _me_ , we’re the only leverage you have in your shitty revenge plot. Unless you’re _really_ itching for Spider-Man to put you back in jail, because hey, if that’s what you want, you’re already off to a pretty great start.”

Gargan stared Harley down for several moments, then turned away. Harley felt triumphant at the man’s silence for all of five seconds before he realized that Gargan was walking towards Peter.

“No, _wait_ , DON’T—!”

Harley’s protest fell on deaf ears, and he cut himself off in horror as Gargan backhanded Peter so hard that his chair toppled over. Peter’s head cracked audibly on the stone floor.

“Peter?” Harley whispered, but the other teen had landed with his back to Harley. He couldn’t see if his friend was conscious, if he was _hurt…_

Well, of course he was hurt. And once again, it was all Harley’s fault.

Gargan approached him again, and he leaned back as far as he could in his chair as the man got in his face, smiling that sadistic smile of his. It didn’t reach his eyes, this time.

“Let me make something clear,” Gargan hissed. “You two may be the only leverage I have against Stark and that _insect_ , but there _are_ two of you. I’m sure I could get a lot out of Stark for just one safely returned intern. I’ve killed before, and I will not _hesitate_ to kill your friend if you continue to mouth off. Do not. Test me.”

Harley nodded, too stunned to say anything else.

“Arach…nid,” a pained voice said from the floor. Harley’s stomach dropped _._

Gargan whirled around and stared at him. “…What did you just say?” His voice was positively _dangerous_.

“Spiders are arachnids,” Peter said. He still sounded vaguely pained. “Not insects.”

Harley shook his head slowly. Gargan was once again walking towards his friend. “No, wait,” Harley began. He struggled again in his chair, but it was no use. “Hit _me_ this time, leave him _alone_ —!”

Gargan didn’t listen. Why would he? He simply delivered a swift kick to Peter’s ribs, then righted his chair while Peter still struggled to regain his breath. Now that Peter was back up, Harley could see blood trickling down one side of his face, where his head had hit the floor.

Harley wanted to ask if he was okay, but he didn’t dare. Not with Gargan still in the room, in case he was set off again.

“If either of you try my patience again, I will _kill_ the other one,” Gargan told them, plain and simple. “It makes no difference to me whether I have one hostage or two, but I’m guessing Tony Stark and Spider-Man would both prefer the latter. So either watch what you say, or stay quiet.” Without another word, he stormed out of the room.

Harley stared after him, horrified.

* * *

“ _Peter_?! Come on, Peter, answer me. Tell me you’re okay. _Are you okay?”_

Harley had been trying to get Peter’s attention for a few minutes now, after a significant amount of time had passed with the both of them in a resigned sort of silence. Peter’s ribs hurt like hell and his head ached, but the injuries would heal themselves in next to no time at all. So he’d be fine, and he figured he should tell Harley that to calm him down. But he couldn’t find the words.

His mind was _reeling_.

Mac Gargan didn’t want to give them to Mr. Stark for ransom money, though from what he’d said Peter didn’t doubt it would end up being part of the deal. No, Gargan had kidnapped the two of them so he could use them as leverage to get to the person he _really_ wanted revenge on, however it had to come about. And that was all fine and good, except being leverage was supposed to mean they were safe. Peter was beginning to realize that he was about as far from safe as he could get.

Because Gargan wanted Spider-Man, and he _had_ Spider-Man. He just didn’t know it yet.

Peter’s plan of staying quiet and therefore safe had crumbled to pieces before his very eyes. If it were just money, it would be _fine,_ but Tony couldn’t give Gargan the information that he wanted. So there would be no deal, which meant their situation had just become a hell of a lot more unpredictable. Peter _hated_ it.

He could try and escape. With his powers it wouldn’t be too hard to get out of the restraints. Except he couldn’t, because what about Harley? As far as Peter was concerned, keeping Harley safe was his top priority here, and he couldn’t guarantee that if they had to fight their way out. Plus, if Peter revealed himself to be Spider-Man to all these people, however many guards were in this building would all be aiming to kill. It was a reckless plan, and one he might’ve chanced if he were on his own, but… with Harley here? He refused to risk it.

They had to stay put, then. Peter was smart enough to know that their best bet was waiting for Mr. Stark to come and rescue them, because of course he would eventually. They’d be okay. Mr. Stark would get them out.

Except what if he _didn’t_? Gargan had been very clear; he wouldn’t hesitate to kill either Peter or Harley if anything went awry, and if Tony took too long to reach them, if he couldn’t properly stall… Peter didn’t like the idea of staying here a second longer, not with someone like that.

It was the best answer, but it still wasn’t a _good_ one. There were no right choices. Nothing he decided to do would get Harley out of harm’s way. It all just went around in circles.

Unless...

An idea came to Peter’s mind unbidden, and he first dismissed it as even more impossible than all the others that had raced through his mind. But…

What if he gave himself up? Admitted his identity? Would they let Harley go?

Not likely. Coming clean would certainly be more desirable than allowing Gargan to find out on his own, which they couldn’t avoid forever. But even if he surrendered himself, he had _no_ guarantee that they would release Harley at all. That they wouldn’t just kill both of them on the spot.

So waiting, then. Waiting was the only choice, at least for now. Waiting for Mr. Stark, or a chance at a better way out. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Peter hated it, but no matter how many times his brain cycled through the options, he couldn’t find one less dangerous than simply sitting tight.

“Parker, for fuck’s sake, _say_ something. You’re scaring me.”

Peter turned to look at Harley, forced a small smile. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Now was not the time to let himself get lost in his thoughts. He’d clearly freaked Harley out; the other boy let out a relieved breath at just the one word.

“Don’t be,” Harley said, offering Peter a soft smile of his own. “ _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing. I thought… when I was saying all those things, I knew it would make him mad. I just didn’t care. I thought he would take it on _me._ ”

“So did I,” Peter admitted. “That’s why I wanted you to shut up.”

Harley snorted, but the amusement on his face was too quickly replaced with concern. “Are you… you’re sure you’re okay? You hit your head pretty hard, and your ribs must be—”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter said. “It doesn’t even hurt that badly.” It was true, the pain had already started to dull. His healing factor had cleared up the gunshot wound in just a few days, and this was nothing in comparison.

Harley still looked doubtful. “I guess.” He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “Peter… what do we do now?”

“It’s like I said earlier, we wait,” Peter replied simply. “It doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

“I know, but… you mean we wait for Tony to rescue us, right?” Harley asked. “Because this guy… he wants to kill Spider-Man. Tony wouldn’t sell out Spider-Man just to save us, right?”

“No,” Peter said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “I don’t think he would.”

“Good,” Harley sagged slightly in his chair. “I… Spider-Man saved my _life_. Even if giving his identity to this guy is the _only_ way we get out of this, I still wouldn’t want to do it. I owe him.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Peter said, confused. “He’s a hero. He saved your life because he wanted to, not because he expected anything in return.”

“I know. I don’t care if he doesn’t expect anything from me,” Harley shrugged. “I’m still not going to let him down. I want to be someone he can trust.”

Peter blinked. “I’m sure he already trusts you,” he said, but his own voice sounded far away. Of course he trusted Harley, and this… this whole situation made him more certain of the fact that Harley cared about what happened to Spider-Man _and_ Peter Parker than anything. Peter would trust Harley with his _life_ , at this point, and it seemed like they may very well be put in that position.

Why shouldn’t he trust Harley with his identity? After all, before they were interrupted in their walk to the compound, Harley had trusted Peter with _his._

Harley hummed, unaware of the decision Peter was weighing both sides of in his head “What makes you say that?”

Obviously the timing wasn’t ideal, but Harley was in danger here, too. Shouldn’t he know the full stakes of their situation? What’s more, maybe Harley could help Peter think up a better plan, or at least know why Peter had ruled some of his prior suggestions out.

Peter ignored Harley’s question in favor of asking one of his own. “Harley, what’s the chance those security cameras come with sound?” he asked, eying the camera in the corner of the ceiling, which faced them.

“Only one way to find out,” Harley said, matter-of-fact, and then proceeded to stare directly at the camera and yell a string of obscenities at the top of his voice.

Peter stared at him, then looked at the camera. No blinking red light, which _hopefully_ meant they weren’t being recorded. It probably went directly to a room with security monitors. And since the camera was far away— too far to pick up on anything they said at a whisper —and no response had ensued from Harley’s crude shouting… they weren’t being listened in on.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Harley told him, looking far too pleased with himself. “If Gargan had heard _that_ , he’d probably be in here already.”

“Okay.” Peter took a deep breath. “Okay. Good.” He mentally steeled himself. He’d made up his mind.

Harley grinned. “You got a plan, Parker?”

“Not exactly.” Another deep breath. _Just do it. Like ripping off a bandage._

“Then what—?”

“I’m Spider-Man.”

A heavy beat of silence, in which Peter waited anxiously and refused to look at Harley’s expression. Then—

“You’re kidding.” The words were said in an exhale, barely audible. Peter could feel Harley’s eyes boring into him, but he kept his own gaze focused determinedly on the ground. “Peter, that’s not funny.”

Peter shook his head, trying to force down his nerves. “I’m not laughing.”

Another stunned silence passed between them.

“You wouldn’t joke about this,” Harley realized. His voice betrayed several emotions; shock, confusion, and… awe? Maybe Peter imagined. that last one. He chanced a look at Harley, but his friend’s expression was difficult to read. “You’re… you’re serious.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t know what else to say.

To his surprise, Harley let out an incredulous laugh. “You know what? In retrospect, it almost makes sense. You’re basically a hazard waiting to happen even when you’re just going about your regular business. It’s no wonder Tony took you in.”

Peter was still unsure how to go about responding— he’d never actually had to have this conversation yet, everyone else seemed to figure it out on their own —but Harley seemed to realize something else before Peter could even open his mouth.

“Hang on.” Harley’s voice had gone a bit sharp. “ _This_ is why Tony took you in, which means… you don’t have a real internship, do you?” Peter nodded and, for some reason, Harley frowned. “You’re fifteen years old, and you’re fighting crime? Isn’t that… dangerous?”

“You’re less than a year older than me,” Peter pointed out, which only made Harley’s expression darken further.

“ _I’m_ not taking on criminals every night, or getting—” Harley stopped. “That was _you._ ”

“What?”

“At the bank,” Harley said. All of a sudden, he looked more scared than he had when Gargan was in the room with them. “ _You_ took that bullet for me. You _did_ get shot!” Harley sucked in a shaky breath. “ _You_ saved my life. You almost died doing it.”

_That’s_ what Harley was getting hung up on? “Well… yeah?”

Harley’s jaw clenched. “As cool as it is, I think I sort of hate that you’re Spider-Man if it gets you shot,” he said, voice tight. “Is _this_ why you’re always getting injuries, seemingly out of nowhere? I thought it was all that jerk, Flash! And that’s another thing. why do you let him push you around when you could kick his ass senseless?!”

“He pushed me around before I got powers, so it would be suspicious if I stood up to him now. But it’s fine,” Peter said, then pressed on at the look on Harley’s face. If possible, he looked even angrier. “Advanced healing is one of my powers.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re getting hurt,” Harley said. He looked upset, which… Peter didn’t know what he’d expected as a response, but for some reason he hadn’t thought Harley would worry about him. “I can’t believe Tony is allowing this. Not only that, but _helping_ you nearly get yourself killed?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was fighting crime before Tony met me,” Peter told him. “He made me the suit because freshman year I was just going out in sweats. I think he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince me to stop, so he decided I should at least be as safe as possible. And I guess he needed my help, too.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

“Look, if I have the power to do something, to help someone, I’m not going to waste that,” Peter said. “It can be dangerous and scary, but… it’s like I told Mr. Stark. I can’t just sit back and do nothing like I can’t make a difference, because I _can_. I know I can.” He let out a frustrated breath. “This is one of the reasons I don’t tell people. I’m sick of people underestimating me.”

And, finally, Harley’s expression softened. “You think I’m underestimating you?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. “Peter, I’ve seen how brave _both_ versions of you can be first hand. Spider-Man saved my life, and Peter Parker has certainly improved it just by being my friend.” He paused. “After what happened at the bank, Tony offered to make me a suit for emergencies like that, so I could defend myself. He said when I was older I could use it to make a difference, like him. Like _you._ I told Tony that he should make you a suit, too, because I _know_ you have what it takes to be a hero, regardless of your powers.”

“You… you really think so?”

“Of course I do,” Harley said, impossibly fond. “And I get why you didn’t tell me until now. I’m a bit… difficult to get to know, and it makes sense you’d be cautious about who you would trust with such—”

“Harley,” Peter cut him off. “I’d trust you with a hell of a lot more than my secret identity. I’d trust you with my life.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise,” Harley said, laughter in his voice. There was a slight shine to his eyes, though, that betrayed how much the words really meant to him. “But… why didn’t you tell me sooner, then? If you trust me so much?”

Peter sighed. “Everyone I tell is in danger,” he muttered. “I wanted to avoid… well, I wanted to avoid situations exactly like the one we’re in now.”

“Yeah, as it turns out, we’re in danger anyway,” Harley said drily. “I’m… I’m glad you told me, Peter.”

“Me too.” Peter smiled at him again, and this one was genuine. “I’ve actually wanted to for a while. Ned already knows, and so does Aunt May, and I figured since you live with Tony you’d be safe. I almost told you after what happened at the bank, but it didn’t seem like the right time.” He snorted. “Because this is _so_ much better.”

“Of course it’s better. Nothing like a little shared trauma to bring out your biggest, darkest secrets,” Harley joked, voice forcibly light. “I think I’d give you another hug, Parker, but I’m all tied up at the moment.”

Peter groaned. “ _All tied up_ is the best pun you could think of? _Really_?” The two of them laughed, but their joy was far too short-lived as quiet descended upon them once more.

“You know how bad this is, right?” Harley broke the silence. “They want to _kill_ you.”

“I know.”

Harley pressed on. “Tony won’t be able to make a deal with them to get us out, which means we’re stuck here until he’s able to find us. Which could be in five minutes, or five days. We have no way of knowing how long it will take him, how well Gargan and his people have covered their tracks. If they learn who you really are… sorry for my pessimism, but you’re pretty much _screwed_.”

“We’d both be screwed,” Peter amended. “We don’t know what they’ll do to you if they find out they already have Spider-Man, either.”

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” Harley said. “I fucking swear, you’re the only person who could be kidnapped by people whose revenge plot revolves around your head on a stick and not be worried about yourself.”

“That’s a splendid image, thank you for that, Harley.”

“I’m _serious,_ Peter,” Harley insisted. All amusement had left his voice. “They want you dead. And hell, maybe it’s just me, but I really would rather _not_ see that happen. What are we going to do if Gargan finds out? Are you sure we couldn’t at least try and escape?”

“Too many variables, too risky. I think our only option is to wait and… cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“And hope we don’t come to it,” Harley agreed, expression grim.

Peter leaned his head back against the top of his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments down below! This is my first time writing for the MCU, and I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts.
> 
> The second chapter is already written, and I don't know exactly how many parts there will be (6 is an estimate, though it could be longer or shorter), but apart from this work it'll be a series of single-chapter installments mostly set in the world that this fic sets up. I'm really, really excited about this idea. I hope you are, too!


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